Loki: Lover of Fidelity
by Refictionista
Summary: The Battle of New York is over. Odin's punishment now has a petulantly wretched Loki back on Earth serving restitution in suspiciously short increments. A woman named Sydney has been in cryogenic suspension at a SHIELD facility for nearly two decades. During the rebuilding of the New York campus, she is prematurely woken by accident and saved by the God of Lies. But why?
1. Prologue

******Author's Note**

**Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine. The fact that this story is on this site obviously implies that I am a ****_fan_**** writing ****_fanfiction_****. Because if I did own them, then I would be on my own private yacht in the Mediterranean sipping sangria from a goblet made of diamonds. The OC, Sydney, is my creation.**

**Mature content, language and themes in later chapters. Beware of spoilers.  
**

******~ Refictionista, June 28, 2014**  


* * *

§ **Prologue** §

* * *

Sydney was driving down I-75, on what she considered the beautiful stretch of the highway between Denver and Colorado Springs, when her mobile phone started buzzing from the passenger seat, interrupting her private jam session with Alanis Morissette's latest album. The phone's annoying tone ceased after just one ring.

Smiling knowingly, she pulled over to the road's shoulder and lowered the car stereo's volume. Sydney then reached for her Motorola StarTAC and flipped the phone open, whistling at the clam shell style device with the sound effect of a Star Trek communicator. She leaned back and started dialing.

"Bergström to Sato. Come in, Sato."

Sato Eriko started giggling. "You're such a dork. What'cha doing?"

"Right now? I'm pulled over in the middle of nowhere, returning your call and staring out the window looking at some goats on a nearby hill."

"Goats?"

"Yeah, goats. Four legged animals that look like sheep but have adorable beards and look somewhat amused." Sydney couldn't help getting sidetracked with sharing Eriko's ever light-hearted attitude, and the little goats were cute. "I'm heading down to my Aunt Blanche's house for a book club meeting."

"Cool beans." Eriko seemed to stretch those two words out and then became taciturn. Sydney could tell her best friend and roommate was hesitant to say something.

"Is everything okay?"

"Sort of... I don't know," she took a deep breath. "Something kinda weird just happened like two minutes ago." Sydney could hear Eriko fiddling with a window's mini-blinds in the background. "No. Make that officially weird. Those guys are now just sitting there, watching the house from a car across the street."

"Eriko, I have no idea... Wait, what? Guys are watching the house? Our house?"

"Yeah. I was getting ready for work, and these two guys in suits with badges knocked on the door and started asking questions about you. Oh, and they wanted to find you, as in like yesterday. Now, they are sitting in what looks like rental car across the street. Hmm, I wonder if they can see me spying on them spying on me."

Sydney was even more bewildered. Confusion itself was not an usual occurrence with her bubbly friend, but currently it was a definite hindrance. "Badges? What agency? Why were they looking for me?"

"I don't remember." Eriko became indignant when she heard Sydney's huff. "No, that isn't me being an airhead. It was like this really really long government agency name. You wouldn't have remembered it either, little miss smarty pants." She exhaled audibly, "Well, maybe you would have being freaky brain smart and all. Anyway, they wouldn't tell me why they were looking for you, just that it was, and I quote, 'essential' that they find you as soon as possible."

Sydney didn't retort. Eriko wouldn't have snapped at her if she wasn't stressed out. She unlatched her seat belt and leaned over to get her book from the back seat. "Eriko, I am sure everything is okay. Don't worry, I'll figure it out when I get to my aunt's condo. Did they leave a business card or anything?"

"No, a card would have had an agency name on it." She could tell Eriko was trying not to sound agitated. "Listen, I'm going to call in sick at work because..." Eriko never finished her sentence, because suddenly the connection cut out at the same time that the car's engine died. Sydney stopped reaching into the back seat and turned forward to stare at the blank cell phone screen and then her unlit dashboard. The vehicle was unnaturally quiet without her friend's voice and the stereo playing.

She glanced at the car charger, which she was sure that she plugged in over thirty minutes ago._ No, it must have been loose and was then so low on power that, when the car died, it did_, she reasoned snapping the phone shut. She tried to start the car back up, but nothing happened. She turned off the radio and the AC, checked to make sure that the lights weren't on and tried the key again. Still nothing, _bugger_. Well, first things first. Sighing, Sydney got out of the car to get the cables. Hopefully, a Good Samaritan would stop soon and give her battery a jump.

Before she even reached the trunk, she heard a helicopter. Looking around, she saw one as it was landing in the field up ahead. The goats on the hill next to her stopped munching on the grass and were staring at it as well.

It was black and sleek looking, with perhaps what was a stylized eagle painted on the side. The whooshing blades never slowed down as a door on the side opened. Two men climbed out and one waved at Sydney, who stood frozen with the key in her hand poised over the trunk. She supposed they didn't seem too menacing as they started half jogging over to her. If anything, she was curious.

They hopped over the field's fence with relative ease and then walked over more placidly. The taller of the two who had waved at her earlier was a black man with kind looking eyes under short dark curls, he smiled. "Miss Bergström?" Sydney couldn't decide what to say. "Miss Sydney Gina Bergström of Englewood, Colorado? Ma'am, I'm Agent Nick Fury, and this here is my partner, Agent Tim Dugan. We realize you find this unorthodox, but we would appreciate it if you came with us."

"Please, we aren't here to hurt you." As he reached out a hand invitingly, she noticed the gun holstered at his side under his dark leather jacket. Alanis Morrissette's voice popped back in her head. _Finally, something that could actually be considered ironic_, she thought.

Sydney released the breath she was holding and gracelessly dropped her keys. As she took a tentative step backwards, Agent Fury grabbed her arm. His expression was still somewhat pleasant, but his features were now firm, his eyes unrelenting. The broad shouldered Agent Dugan brought his hand up to his face and then spoke into his wrist, "We have her."


	2. Nothing burns like the cold

******Author's Note**

**Great Jumping Jehoshaphat... I hate writing summaries. 385 characters to explain a story that still only exists as a basic outline. I apologize if you've read it more than once and are wondering why I keep changing the story's description. I must have changed it twelve times already, yet I'm still not satisfied. I'd ask for help, but seeing as how this here is the first actual chapter makes such a request from the tens of readers out there quite premature.  
**

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of this chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

******~ Refictionista**, July 1, 2014  


* * *

§ **Chapter I **§  
nothing burns like the cold

* * *

"Margaret!"

When no one answered, he charged out of his office like an angry bear emerging from its den. "You there," Director Fury did nothing to hide his impatience with the young agent unlucky enough to be at the first station he saw entering the bridge deck. "Get Hill on the line!"

After a terse moment, the woman looked back up at him, "Sir, the communications array is still is down at the New York campus."

"Lieutenant, I was told those repairs would be finished two hours ago. What exactly are our people at that facility doing down there?"

"It appears that they are behind schedule, sir."

"Oh really, you don't say?" When she started to take a breath to respond, he held up a hand, "The next words that come out of your mouth better make me believe that you are smarter than I am."

Director Fury narrowed his eye as she stoically stared back at him, wisely not saying a word. He nodded and turned to head up the stairs. Halting outside of the conference room, he gripped the railing as he realized,_ there shouldn't be a debriefing yet_. He couldn't reach Hill, but that didn't concern him. He knew that he could trust her to keep on top of things without him. However, it seemed that his Avengers Initiative had disappeared. He had no idea where they were. Hadn't Stark had mentioned something about getting some shawarmas before they had all gone radio silent? Ridiculous. Who the hell dropped everything after a battle to try out some local Mediterranean dive?

_Shwarmas... gyros... his Avengers had gone to eat gyros!_[1] For the first time since Fury had ignored the council's decision to launch a missile at Manhattan, he actually smiled. He lightly smacked a fist on the metal railing; maybe his Avengers had earned a leave of absence.

He knew he was going to be in a much better mood when he contacted that stupid-ass World Security Council this time. He walked back into his office, much more sedately than he had exited it.

* * *

Maria Hill stretched and rolled her neck slowly from side to side. The facilities at the New York campus had been damaged, though not as much as she initially feared when she had first arrived. Some of the research labs and personnel would need to be relocated to another campus, at least temporarily. Deciding who and where was a decision further down on her list of priorities. She was exhausted, but knew that there was no time for rest. Some of these projects needed immediate attention, who knew what might be lost if they didn't act quickly. A few projects could be temporarily suspended, but the others... _so much to do_.

She reviewed the list of the injured. Thankfully no casualties, and hopefully there wouldn't be any. The severely wounded were all listed as critical, but stabilized.

_Fury might be pleased to hear that._

She snapped her head up, suddenly alert again. "Has Director Fury made contact since the battle ended?" She pushed the tablet back to the engineer, grabbing the next one he was holding.

"No ma'am. They're still trying to fix communications."

"Notify me the moment you think your team can get through to the helicarrier." She paused scrolling through the new tablet, "Kreah, I told you that already, didn't I?" He nodded. _Damn it_, she needed more coffee. "Tell you what... Inform the repair crew that if they can't get me a link within the next fifteen minutes, then I need an alternative way to contact the Director."

"Yes, ma'am."

She scanned the next report. "The sub-levels in section D are listed as structurally sound but severely damaged. Does any of this include our long term storage?"

Bruno Kreah looked over the schematics and preliminary engineering analysis. "Yes," he replied. "I want to take a look myself, but the only thing I'm concerned about right now is the cryogenic bays. Obviously, the power levels are fluctuating, but I think that the structural damage affected the lines to our backup generator is even more troubling. I already have a team assigned to that."

"Cryogenics... Yes, I see it here." She skimmed the list, _oh wait... that is troubling indeed_. "Let your team know that once everything is stabilized, prepare to transfer any level nine cargo to the Guest House. I said prepare. Make it clear that I don't intend to move anything there unless we are in danger of losing the cargo and nothing is moved without the Director's or my direct approval."

Kreah nodded and walked away, and then another S.H.E.I.L.D agent came forward with a new stack of tablets and probably a dozen fresh urgent questions. After a few minutes, Kreah came back. He mimed a phone and pointed to the surface. Maria frowned and pinched her nose, then shook it off and headed up the stairs with the engineer. Maybe they would pass a coffee pot on the way up; she wouldn't even mind if she had to drink it cold.

* * *

§

* * *

_The dark metal hyperbaric chamber hummed and pulsed, sending waves of evanescencing liquid nitrogen throughout the floor around it. Blanche Bergström swore she could feel the cold two stories above on the observation catwalk. She gripped the handrails so hard that her white knuckles started to redden, and she once again fought to hold back the tears that had periodically threatened to fall ever since she first looked down below._

_Controlling herself was not getting easier. She needed to leave this place and soon. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes at the man next to her, hissing under her breath to get his attention, and was met with mild annoyance. _

_"I'm done here," Blanche said, returning the scowl. "If you are not going to let me get any closer, then there is no reason for us to stay."_

_He said nothing, gesturing with his free hand towards the egress. Blanche briefly entertained the fantasy of 'accidentally' elbowing the sling holding his injured arm as she walked passed him. The longer he was in her presence, the greater the damages she imagined upon him.  
_

_On the other side of the door, she pulled herself up to her full height and faced him again. "Tell me the truth, Nicholas. Why did you ask my niece? Was it to punish me after I said no?"_

_He failed to have the decency to look shocked or affronted. The intense glare he gave her was not hindered from the bandages covering the left side of his face. He could accomplish with one eye what most men couldn't do with two._

_"We needed someone with your skills..."_

_"No, you needed nothing," she snapped. "You wanted to know what it was. You wanted to know how you could use it. Do not mistake greed for need. That knowledge and power was never within your rights, and that is why I said no. Had I any idea you could be so reckless, so arrogant, so..."  
_

_"If I want your opinion, then I'll ask for it." He turned and walked down the hallway. "__You're right, we're done__," he decreed over his shoulder, dismissing her._

_"____Nicholas_, you asshole! She was untested! Not even twenty years old, by goddess. She..." He rounded a corner, seemingly without hearing her outburst. Something in Blanche finally snapped. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes and started muttering viciously under breath.

_Less than a moment later, a uniformed guard appeared next to her. "Ma'am, I'm here to escort you off the campus."_

_"Of course," Blanch opened her eyes. She stood up straight again, relaxed her hands and gave the stern looking man her sweetest possible smile. "Young man, please be a dear for an old woman and tell Agent Fury that when the rest of his singed hair falls off of that prick-shaped head, none of it is_ ever _coming back."_

* * *

_At home later that day, Blanche distractedly dropped her purse by the front door. She took off her coat and left it crumpled in the hallway as she walked towards a small sitting room. Reaching the bookcase, she knocked the contents of a shelf off onto the floor. A delicate glass bookend with a marble base shattered on the hardwood, but she took no notice. She put the palm of her hand on the back of the bookcase and began to whisper._

_ Water, is taught by thirst.  
Land - by the Oceans passed.  
Transport - by throe -  
Peace - by its battles told -  
Love, by Memorial Mold -  
Birds, by the Snow._[2]

_ She pushed her hand and arm through the bookcase... most of her upper arm disappeared into the wood and wall behind it. Her face narrowed in concentration as she reached for something in the pocket dimension.  
_

_When she pulled her arm out, she held a worn paperback, _The Complete Works of Emily Dickenson_, in her hand._

_"Arată adevărul,"_[3] _she commanded, closing her eyes and kissing the book's spine_.

_The cover started to shimmer like a heavy mist, and Dickenson's daguerreotype dissolved. The entire book seemed to flow, yet with movement that wasn't going anywhere. Finally, the shimmering settled and she held a grimoire. It was a beautiful book, not bound in leather, but in iridescent fish scales. Blanche put the book on the coffee table, and began reading. Her body was near exhaustion, but she was driven by determination. She knew what she needed could be found in her manual of magic. She would not fail._

_She read all night, never stopping, even when the first pink rays of the sunrise fell through the window._

_It was a day later and in the sanctuary of her small bedroom when Blanche finally gave in to the crying she had fought against for so very long. Hot salty tears fell over both sides of her face. Feeling much older than her sixty-two years, she sat down at her vanity, resting her head on her forearms. She had known the cost would be high, but now she also knew that the implications would hurt not only her... so many others would be affected. How could she end this without causing more suffering? It was quite some time before she raised her wet face to look at the mirror.  
_

_"If I do it... if I... if I save her, then she will be all alone," she whispered to her reflection. She coughed; her voice was harsh from sobbing and lack of sleep.  
_

_"Not if we are very clever," the reflection whispered back softly, her dry and gentle face smiling back at Blanche sympathetically from the other side of the mirror.  
_

* * *

§

* * *

[1] **Did anyone else notice this pun from the movie? A shwarma is an Arab sandwich/wrap. The Greek equivalent of a shwarma is called gyro, which is pronounced [jeer-oh]... as in _hero_. ;-)**

[2] **_Water, is taught by thirst_ is a poem by Emily Dickinson, an American poet from the 19th century. To me, the poem's meaning/theme is that one does not realize what he or she has until it is lost. The allusions and figurative language were appropriate for the scene, or perhaps I wrote this scene for the poem ;-)  
**

[3]** _Arată adevărul_ is Romanian (according to Google Translate) for _show the truth_. Yes, I realize that the Romanian language is not the same as the Romani language, but please forgive me as I was hindered by a lack of reliable sources. Since this is fanfiction, we shall all be content with pretending ;-)**


	3. Wait and hope

******Author's Note**

**Finally, Loki makes it to the story! His introduction was originally at the end of the previous chapter, since I had wanted the Aunt Blanche's flashback to be sandwiched in between two scenes of the current story. I thankfully realized it was just too long and deserved to stand on its own.**

**Sections entire in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

******~ Refictionista**, July 3, 2014  


* * *

§ **Chapter II **§  
wait and hope

* * *

Thor arrived at the Bifröst, holding Loki securely by his arm, who was in shackles and had muzzle over the lower portion of his face.

"Greetings, Heimdall," said Thor as he stepped away from the portal. The gatekeeper removed Hǫfuð, his great uru sword, from its slot on the control platform to close the vortex behind the Asgardian princes.

"Prince Thor. Prince Loki." The dark guardian's head nodded respectfully to each of them, but his multifaceted golden eyes hardened when he looked at Loki.

"Heimdall, my brother and I require horses."

The gatekeeper turned back to Thor, "Your steeds have already been requested, my prince." He paused, "Be warned, Prince Loki is to remain bound and gagged until you arrive at court. His return threatens the safety of Asgard, and only on the command of the All-father himself as he called upon my oath of fealty did I open my gate to you both."

Thor's expression fell slightly then nodded his head subtly, but Loki made no indication that he overheard their conversation. His deadpanned gaze went straight ahead, staring off far into the distance.

_Asgard was truly the most beautiful of all the realms_. Traveling through the Bifröst always left his legs unsteady, but he forced himself to remain straight despite his heavy shackles and to keep his mind focused. Loki wanted to remember this moment, as it was such a beautiful clear day. The breeze was warm and fragrant. The magical waves of the Sea of Space were rhythmic and soothing. The sky was... breathtaking. If he lived for much longer past this day, he might not see the sky for a very long time. Possibly centuries, maybe more. _So very beautiful_, thought Loki forlornly.

His vacant expression above the muzzle never revealed the despondency of god of lies. His deep set emerald eyes remained dark and blank despite his thoughts. When taking in the sight of Asgard became too much for him to bear, he allowed his head a slow downcast tilt so that his black hair could shift and obscure his face. However, his posture never wavered.

The ride to the palace was long, but at the same time it was far too short. The brilliantly shining metropolis of Asgard was full of splendor, but even with all their glory none of the common buildings rivaled that of the palace. The tallest ziggurat in the city, surrounded by gardens and terraces with golden pipe organ-like towers stretching to the sky, challenged the height of the mountains in the distance. When they reached the entrance Thor dismounted, and then helped Loki, still manacled, off his horse. Though still warm from the sunny afternoon, the shadows of the courtyard were refreshing after the heat Loki felt from the stares of the citizens of Asgard as they had ridden through the streets.

They walked up the steps and through the golden halls of the palace. When they finally reached the doors to the Great Hall, Thor removed Loki's muzzle. Loki waggled his jaw around, "Oh, my most sincere thanks. That is _sooo_ much better." Thor made no further movement, so Loki held up his runed shackles, "You still don't trust me?"

"Would you?"

Loki rolled his eyes, "No... I wouldn't." He sighed, "Best I keep them for the time being. Perhaps I'll earn sympathy."

"Cease your mockery. I shan't hesitate to gag you anew."

Loki's lips attempted to give Thor a smile, but his eyes didn't bother. Then in an unexpected burst of gratefulness, he murmured "Thank you for letting me ride Gyllir through the city." His face was now closed and once again carefully composed.

Thor blinked, "Despite what you think, I still believe you to be my brother. Even with all you have done, I would never bring you home in a tumbrel."

_Home_. The word mocked him; Loki looked away and said nothing.

The armored guards pushed opened the doors and the Great Hall was open before them. They walked towards the throne together. It was so unlike the joyful day of Thor's ultimately unsuccessful coronation. Gone were the courtiers, the cheering, the celebratory attitude. There ahead sat Odin, their father, on his golden throne with Frigga, his wife and queen by his side. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif stood beneath the dais. A few council members and advisers were visible from the penetralia, but they were silent and remained mostly hidden by the shadows.

Without preamble, Thor dropped to one knee and bowed his head, "Sire, I beg leniency for the prisoner, my brother."

Thor's words for once, were slow and deliberate; it was obvious he had thought long about what to say. Loki raised one eyebrow as he watched Thor continue to speak. "Verily, 'twas my rash behavior that first lead Loki down this path. I should have treated my brother better. I was a vain, greedy, cruel boy. An unworthy heir to your throne."

Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes yet again.

"Therefore Father, whatever is to be done, I ask that you share his punishment with me. I claim responsibility for some of the crimes he was forced to take. He should not be punished for the wrongs I committed."

Loki turned his head to Thor in confusion, their mother started to smile, and the Warriors Three gasped in exclamation. "Thor, do not let your feelings for your brother cloud your judgment," Lady Sif's tone was urgent.

Thor stood and turned a glare at Sif, "You dare to tell Thor how to feel and act?" Sif only answered his question with a pained expression.

"Enough," Odin's voice carried throughout the Great Hall. The argument between Thor and his entourage ceased. "Loki, would you tell me that the fault is not just thine, but rests with Prince Thor as well?" The honorific was noticeably absent prior to Loki's name.

"Yes, he does," Thor said quickly before Loki could say otherwise.

"Prince Thor, be silent," after which Odin said nothing. He sat still, unmoving. His one eye's piercing gaze never left Loki or blinked. To his credit, Loki posture remained perfect, and he didn't break eye contact. After a prolonged wait, there was a collective exhale as the All-father finally stood. "Tell me Loki, traitor who I once called my son, what do you believe would be an appropriate punishment? An execution usually follows such treason."

"Agreed. I would kill me and be done with it."

As they say here on Earth, you could have heard a pin drop.

Crying out and stumbling forward, Frigga braced herself against Odin's shoulder. "My son, no! You don't mean that!"

"I meant every word." Loki's casual shrug was belied by the venom in his voice. When he would have said more, he stopped at the sight of his mother now openly weeping.

Thor stared at Loki in shock. There was the truth, plain as Odin's white beard. Loki had not used his silver tongue. He did not talk his way out of his predicament or even try to do so... _had he given up_?

If the All-father himself had at all been shaken, then he had already recovered before anyone in the throne room noticed. "I'll take your suggestion under advisement. Until then, I order you to wait securely in a cell benefiting your station until such time that I decide otherwise. No one is to visit you in the dungeons, so that you may reflect undisturbed in quiet meditation on your actions."

Loki shrugged with feigned indifference.

* * *

§

* * *

_Sidney was sitting in a windowless room on an uncomfortable aluminum chair on one side of a large table across from an empty chair. Agent Fury had brought her in and deposited her on the chair, saying he would be right back.  
_

_That had been at least fifteen minutes ago.  
_

_When finally he came back, he was carrying a large metallic case. Fury set it down on the table off to the side, and then turned around without saying a word._

_"Do you think I could have my purse back, please? If I'm going to be here a while, then I wouldn't mind having my book," Sidney said nonchalantly. Fury didn't leave, only turned around again to stand next to the door, and she gave him what she hoped was an innocent looking smile._

_"You mean your grimoire?" an older man said, entering the room._

_Sidney's head snapped up. __He was a big, rough-looking man with a heavily muscled neck, although he was wearing an almost casual looking grey suit with a comically bright red tie._ The clothing said he was friendly, but the eyes _underneath bushy gray eyebrows_ lacked accommodation. From the way Fury almost imperceptibly stood up a bit straighter, Sidney gathered he was in charge.  


_"Yes, I had a feeling that's what that paperback novel was," he commented, absently chuckling to himself as he sat down across from her. "Anyway, now... Good morning, Miss Bergman. I'm Director Richard Stoner with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."_

_Sidney crossed her arms. "Bergström," she corrected him, not bothering with the title. "And that's quite a mouthful, Director Stoner."  
_

_He smiled, "I know. We're working on it. Please, do relax. Call me Rick."_

_"Okay, _Dick_," she said his name sarcastically, "Would you mind telling me why I was forcibly taken here? If it wouldn't be too inconvenient, that is. Agent Fury over there wasn't all that enlightening, so I'm assuming either he doesn't know or maybe someone like you told him not to tell me." She huffed and waved a hand about slightly, "Not that I didn't enjoy your helicopter ride, but I actually had better ways that I had planned to spend my day off than being a prisoner." Before he had a chance to respond she continued, "Now, please. Do tell me what was so "essential" that you find me as soon as possible." One of her air quotes turned into an obscene hand gesture as her hands went back to rest on her lap.  
_

_Director Stoner leaned back as well and braced his arms against the table, "Yep, she's a plucky one. Nick, did I or did I not say that I knew she was going to be fearless?"_

_"Yes, sir. You said that."_

_He winked at her, "I'm never wrong." Sidney suppressed the urge to childishly stick out her tongue and roll her eyes at his familiar tone. "Well, my dear. Yes, by all means, let's get down to business." He stood and moved the hefty case to the center of the table, scratching the surface as he dragged it over. "First, you aren't our prisoner. We simply brought you here to take a look at something." He unlocked the case and lifted the lid, "Fury tells me that your family has experience dealing with... artifacts... like this one."_

_Despite her better judgment, Sidney found herself leaning forward to look inside._

* * *

§

* * *

A week after Loki came back, the All-Father sat in his private chamber, his wife standing across the room next to the hearth facing him.

"You went to visit him." His tone was accusatory and displeased.

"Yes."

"He was not to have any visitors until I..."

"He is _our_ son. He needs our love more than anything else in the Nine Worlds right now. However, you'll be happy to know that _I_ indeed obeyed your orders."

Odin raised an eyebrow.

"I projected an image of myself in his cell; though it saddened me to not be able to hold our child in my arms, I never actually went down to the dungeons. Whether or not my actions actually disturbed Loki's meditation is a query you would have to put to him, not I."

Odin sighed, and rested his head in his hands. He gave a mirthless laugh, "You two share an intelligence beyond compare, my Queen." He looked back up at her and then back down to the flames in the hearth, "I am so weary."

"You need rest, my love," Frigga walked over and knelt before him, stroking his cheek.

He patted her hand, "Despite all I have survived, my Queen still worries over me."

"It's only because I still worry over you that you have survived." Odin looked down a Frigga staring up at him. His beautiful wife and queen was smiling patiently.

"What would you have me do?" he asked belatedly.

Frigga's smile widened, "You banished one foolish son to Midgard, and though it broke my heart when you sent him away, he came back changed for the better."


	4. Sleep is the best meditation

******Author's Note**

**Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

******~ Refictionista**, July 10, 2014  


* * *

§ **Chapter III **§  
sleep is the best meditation

* * *

Once upon a time, Sydney made a decision. An important one.

She knew she wasn't dead, but she was somewhat certain she wasn't actually alive either. She had decided that her existence was... well... _complicated_, but most importantly _not dead_. The phrase 'once upon a time' was the most accurate description of _when_ she made this decision, because she wasn't sure if she came to this conclusion recently or long ago.

Time was a concept she could no longer fully grasp.

But that wasn't the only fuzzy thought mucking about in her mind.

Aunt Blanche had been here, or she hadn't. She was stronger, but she was powerless. It was cold, yet she couldn't feel anything at all. A thousand years passed, and time stood still.

Nothing made sense.

This vagueness confused Sydney. She had been upset about her circumstances, what with the catastrophic shift from the reality as she remembered it to the current lack of knowing what was going on and why she was here. Wherever here might be. But since labeling herself as _complicated_, she'd become the levelheaded person she knew she once was. It was human nature to want structure, and Sydney was almost certain she was still human. Around 98% to 99% certain.

Though, a place like this made it hard to be levelheaded. This world danced around her in millions of colors. Like a chorus of all the butterflies that ever lived singing about a sunrise and flying in every direction all at once.

Nothing was in its true form. This world wasn't real. Nothing was real, unless she really concentrated.

Consequently, Sydney was concentrating right now. Hard.

* * *

_Go down the street behind that rubble._

Eriko stopped, she could have sworn she heard or felt something. It was like when a strong wind rustled through trees and sounded almost like spoken words. She had goosebumps and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, which was quite impressive considering how sweaty and filthy she was. Eriko looked around for a reason for feeling like someone was trying to get her attention. No one. Nothing. She dismissed whatever that was; none of the rescue workers nearby were paying her any notice.

She shook her head; her mind must be wandering. _Damn it_. She didn't have time for this, even if she was exhausted. "Juba! Juba, where are you?!" Her voice hurt. She had been calling for her daughter for so long.

_Sato Eriko! Go to the other side the pile of the rubble in front of the bodega down the street._

There it was again, but it was definitely a voice now; she knew she heard someone say Sato Eriko. Someone was calling for her by her maiden name and maybe saying something else... or was it more of a feeling? She spun around, still not seeing anyone near her.

"Oh, no. I'm losing it." Shaking, Eriko wrapped her arms around her chest. She felt strangely cold. Her soiled pink bouclé jacket was missing a sleeve, where Juba had torn it off in an attempt to stay with her. She started crying, tears from her already dehydrated body flowing freely down her face, leaving track marks through the soot and ash on her cheeks. Was this nightmare ever going to end?

A moment passed and a paramedic, or maybe a policeman, Eriko couldn't tell without her glasses, came up to her, "Ma'am, are you okay?"

She snapped at the rescue worker, "No, I need to find my daughter." Eriko realized the man was only trying to help, and she forcibly regained control of her tone, "Please, she's only fourteen. We got separated when everyone started running. This is the last place I saw her." Eriko looked around questionably, "I think."

"I see. What's her name?"

"Lee Jubilation. Jubilation Lee," Eriko's voice cracked and her chin quivered. She was on the brink of collapsing, "Her name is Juba."

The man standing next to her nodded his head, looking around as well. His tone switched from urgency and concern to calm and sympathetic, "Why don't you head over to the Red Cross tent down the street, have a seat, and give them her details. They have bottled water and -

Down the street? _Down the street._

A blinding white light hit Eriko right between the eyes, she screamed wordlessly and fell down to her knees, clutching her head. It was like someone had set off fireworks inside her skull, and it hurt. The remains of her once perfect French twist finally letting go in a disarray of black and gray hair around her face and between her clenched fingers. The paramedic who had first tried to catch her then tried to help her back up, but Eriko angrily swatted him away. She crawled forward a bit, and then she staggered up.

Her vision was clear, clearer than Eriko ever remembered. Yes, she knew exactly where Juba was.

With an unforeseen burst of energy, she started running down East 82nd Street towards a pile of rubble. She paid no attention to the man calling for her to come back.

Where her second wind came from she didn't know, but she skidded to a stop after making it to the debris. She was hardly out of breath, but suddenly she froze and was unable to move as she looked down. There near her feet was the body of a grotesque cyborg-like creature half buried under the concrete blocks.

"Please be dead. Please be dead. Please be dead."

The sight on the ground didn't stop her long; the body wasn't her daughter and this wasn't the first demon she had seen today. Terrified it would move, she worked her way cautiously past the area, ignoring the creature and searching again for Juba.

_Over there_, "Juba!"

Her daughter sat with a group of people huddled under an archway further down beyond the street corner. She was clutching Eriko's torn sleeve tightly. Her daughter was alive.

Injured it seemed, but alive. Someone had tied a strip from the remains of what might have once been a white t-shirt around one of her knees. There was trickle of dried blood coming out one of her ears and her eyes were confused, vacant. Juba's stare looked right through her, blinking slowly.

The girl looked down at her hands now held by her mother's, then up and tried to focus on Eriko's face. "Mom?"

As Eriko cried and happily hugged her daughter, she could have sworn she heard fireworks.

* * *

Sydney relaxed. Her mind drifted back to the vagueness again. The a capella music that was there but wasn't there engulfed her once more in its beauty. This time, it didn't upset her. Somehow, she knew that she would soon leave the colorful world around her. It was a new sensation, as if she was waiting for something that was finally coming; she hadn't felt anticipation before. The mist of confusion was still there, perhaps just more transparent.

Sydney then came to another conclusion. She was wrong; _this place was real_.

In a strange way she smiled, even without a face.

She realized that all along, she had been looking at magic itself.


	5. Get mad, then get over it

******Author's Note**

**Welcome to the chapter where I ****_finally_**** throw in some limes; unfortunately, - spoiler! - no lemony Loki goodness yet.**

**Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, July 17, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter IV **§  
get mad, then get over it

* * *

"You mean my magic?!" Loki crossed his arms and looked away, "Absolutely not. I'd rather stay in these lovely accommodations."

With fingers buried in his hair, Thor gazed apologetically at his brother behind the energy shield of his prison cell and watched Loki's calm demeanor with a growing sense of dread. His brother didn't have a choice, and he knew this. It was only a matter of time before the god of mischief became manic.

Loki straightened a nonexistent crease in his dark green tunic and sat down with a flourish, propping an elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand. "I will not go."

"You don't have a choice, father decided..."

"Your father, _not_ mine!" Loki sprang up and pounded a fist on the energy shield, which seemed to spark violently back at him. Loki didn't flinch.

"So I am not your mother?" Frigga said softly after she materialized next to Loki. His mother, the Queen, was one of the fairest, kindest, and wisest Asgardians, all of which was seen in her blue eyes... regardless if those eyes were a mirage or not. Frigga's serene face waited patiently while Loki crossed his arms and stalked over to the opposite side of his cell, saying nothing and purposely avoiding her question. Her eyes followed him the entire time. "Nothing in the Nine Realms will ever make me feel differently about my love for you. You are my son. We are your family." Thor shifted uncomfortably in the passageway, but nodded in honest agreement.

"Family doesn't destroy that which you cherish the most."

"Your father doesn't want to destroy your magic." Frigga clasped her hands sedately in front of her gown and tilted her head slightly, "He would by no means do so."

"You are not a naïf!" Loki shot back. "How could you possibly pretend to be that oblivious? He was willing to have me executed," his voice trailed off with a broken sigh.

"I would not have allowed it." Frigga narrowed her eyes, her posture now straighter, protective. "Never."

"Verily! Neither would I," said Thor.

Loki looked at Frigga and Thor with shoulders slumped. He wearily sat back down at the table, the élan in his movements now faded. "Why bother?" his voice a half whisper. "There is no redemption for the damage I have done."

"This Hel is of your own making, hence the need for you to journey with me to Midgard for reparations. The only redemption you will find is when you put yourself aside to feel deeply for those you have wronged, verily anyone... just someone else. However, this atonement must be a decision of your own choosing, for involuntary servitude will offer no true redemption," Thor's words came as a surprise to the three of them.

Some of Loki's mirth returned, "Well said _Odinson_, as a man in love you have become a poet."

"Any great warrior is also a scholar and a poet," said Thor stiffly.

Thor... a _scholar_? Loki laughed. His boff was more agitated and tortuous than the sound of his almost forgotten golden laughter, but Frigga and Thor still smiled, seeing that some small bit of humor had reached his eyes. For a moment, the three of them were together in companionable silence with familial warmth poking around the edges. It didn't last long. Loki's weak smile slowly faded. He stared vacantly beyond Thor, lost in his thoughts.

Just as Thor had looked to his mother's illusory image for guidance on what to do next, Loki spoke, "You don't parole a rabid dog by putting it on a leash; you exterminate it before anyone else suffers." Thor cringed at the latest rejoinder subtly pleading for his execution, but Loki never noticed. His gaze still empty, he continued, "Your hope for me is misguided at best, but more likely merely insane as I. Were I to get out, sooner or later I would regain my magic and become the devastation that's ends you both."

Another pause.

"Was I not to bring about Ragnarök? Did your sight not show you this?" Loki asked Frigga bitterly.

"The time for you to bear that burden is not near, my son."

Loki blinked and slowly focused back on his mother's illusion before him, "Still... I _am_ mad."

Frigga was undeterred, "Yes, a dark madness passed over you. I foresaw this too long ago, but I also saw that a light would shine through."

Loki spat dryly and rolled his eyes, "I will not go." However, this time his protestation was much less adamant.

* * *

§

* * *

"Seriously? You brought the Heir of Slytherin to _my_ place," Tony Stark stood shocked and unmoving for all of 1.5 seconds, then shook his head and glared at Thor. "No with a capital H-E-L-L. That crazy son of a bitch cannot stay here."

"Have a care how you speak. Loki has done terrible things, but he is of Asgard and he is my brother!"

"Why should he? Your asshole brother threw him out a window on the 92nd floor.[4] He put Barton under a homicidal spell," Natasha Romanoff's voice rose as she pointed to Hawkeye on the balcony above them. Her fellow agent was observing them with predatory eyes from the upper level with what was possibly a near-permanent frown. "He killed eighty fellow agents in two days, and they don't know yet the civilian death count from Manhattan!" Her yelling now seemed to shake her whole body. Natasha wasn't one for emotional outbursts, and the sight of her this affected was slightly unnerving to nearly everyone in the room. Except Loki, who had been mildly amused earlier by the arguments ensuing between all the different parties around him. Discord was the fuel to his fire.

However, he found the silent tension in the room after the Black Widow's diatribe unpalatable, and sought to end it. "In Thor's defense, I'm adopted," Loki then interjected. "And technically, I'm not of Asgard."

"Loki, _silence_!"

"Just trying to help, you oaf."

"Well, you're not."

"Enough!" Clint Barton shouted. Everyone in the room hushed as he jumped off the railing and walked up to the group. He stopped right in front of Loki, giving the manacled god a look of pure contempt.

Then he punched Loki. Full steam. It was hard enough force to wipe the smirk of his face instantly.

Loki stumbled back towards Thor, who tried to steady him, blood already spurting from his nose. Loki shook the attempted assistance from his brother off with muted revulsion while Tony eyed the blood drops landing on his white carpet with disdain. Clint then stood coolly and unblinking as Natasha quietly stepped to his side slightly behind him with an equally detached look on her previously incensed face. "Let me do that once a day, and I'll be fine with him staying," Clint said as he turned and motioned to Natasha with a barely noticeable flick of his eyes. She nodded faintly and together they left the room, slamming the door shut with a resonating thud.

Those remaining glanced at each other uncertainly, but then Tony started laughing.

"You're rubbing off on Legolas," Tony said to Bruce, he picked up his abandoned scotch from a side table and raised it in a mock toast. "Color me impressed."

Bruce Banner laughed back, "If we all get to punch him, then I want a turn. The other guy loved smashing him."

Loki blanched visibly for the first time since arriving back on Midgard, though it was unnoticeable given his already pale complexion. He painfully remembered the Hulk making Loki-sized indentations in the concrete floor here in Stark's tower a month prior. His cringe didn't deter the chuckles between the two geniuses.

"There is no honor is striking a bound man," Thor said stepping forward.

"Luckily for me, that rule doesn't apply to bloodthirsty ass-clowns," Tony winked at the disgruntled god of thunder and downed the rest of his glass in one gulp. He walked back to the bar looking for the bottle. "You're being quiet, Capsicle. Any thoughts?"

Steve Rogers didn't bother glaring at Tony for the nickname like he usually did for the never-ending stream of wisecracks. He looked at each of the faces of the remaining Avengers in the room pensively; finally he said "I agree with Thor; it's wrong to kick a man while he is down."

Loki whistled, "Did the champion of righteousness just defend me? God bless America."

"I wasn't defending you."

"Sure sounded like it. Next thing we know, you'll be giving us all a rousing lecture about truth, honor, and patri..."

Before he could finish, Thor abruptly grabbed hold of Loki, securing his hand over his mouth and roughly shoved him down onto a nearby couch, silencing any further attempts to provoke those around him. Loki glared at his brother with distaste, but Thor didn't budge. "I shall silence you by any means necessary." He removed his hand and pointed a finger at Loki until his brother finally huffed and turned his head away.

"J.A.R.V.I.S." Tony called out as he walked back, tossing an empty bottle into a nearby wastebasket. "We're going to need more Macallan M."

"Of course, sir," a disembodied voice replied. "Will that be just one whole case or do you plan on sharing?"

* * *

"He doesn't have his magic anymore," Natasha said, her hand absently hovering over the sidearm strapped to her leg. She took it out and unconsciously started to check the clip a second time, but then decided to put the gun down on the side table next to the couch.

"That's not what Thor said," Hawkeye was pacing, the tightly wound muscles in his broad shoulders radiating tension. The small office next to Stark's lab felt like a cage to him. Plus, his hand was _killing_ him. Loki's face had felt like it was made of solid rock through his gauntlet.

"Close enough."

"Now is not the time to placate to me, Tasha."

"Clint, you're gonna be alright." She studied at his agitated face and the hand he was cradling, working out how best to help him work through this, "That punch was off though; your elbow was too low for a right hook to the head."

He stopped pacing, "I hit things better from a distance." She raised an eyebrow skeptically, but he didn't rise to the bait.

The Black Widow didn't give up. "Still," she hesitated with a smirk, "you should go down to the gym and spar with Steve; he's usually there in the evenings." Clint didn't respond, so Natasha pushed further, "I'm sure that a 90-year-old could go easy on you until you get your game back."

"Fuck you."

_That worked_. Natasha shrugged indifferently, "Okay, sure. That works for me; I wouldn't mind alleviating some stress."

Clint did a double take, and then they both started laughing.

He took a breather against the wall, "Thanks, I needed that. Seriously though, this is a problem. He _can't_ stay here. I can't deal with this."

"I know," she got up and locked the door. "First, you help me work off some stress and clear my head. Then, we'll figure it out."

Clint eyed her warily, but Natasha simply pushed him on to the couch and straddled him. "Don't be a child; you need to relax even more than I do. If you loose control of your emotions again in front of that deranged psychopath, then you'll be of little use to the rest of us." Natasha took off the holster and strap off her thigh and set them next to the sidearm she had discarded earlier. She wrapped her arms around his neck, the skin on her forearms brushing against the muscles which felt every bit as painfully coiled as they had looked. "That's if you don't mind," she said, waiting patiently. Clint opened his eyes and squinted at her like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

It didn't take him long to make a decision. He brought his mouth up to the base of her neck, the movement so fast it blurred. His hesitation gone, he picked her up and rolled on top of her. She released a satisfied moan, "Bozhe moi."[5]

* * *

"I'm going to report to S.H.E.I.L.D. what's happening. I would have assumed that Barton or Romanoff would have already made that call, but since Fury hasn't called and we haven't had any agents burst in with guns aimed at our... _guest_, I'm starting to doubt that." Steve regarded Loki with the patience of a saint, "Is there anything you'd like for me to say on your behalf?"

"That I'll turn Crown Prince of Asgard and even you into frogs given half a chance."[6]

Captain Rogers recoiled slightly from Loki, who smiled at his discomfort from behind the bag of ice over his face. Steve cleared his throat and got up to make the call. Next to him, Thor elbowed Loki in the ribs, who tried to glower in return. Unfortunately, that didn't come off as menacingly as he had hoped, so he got up and moved away from Thor to an adjacent chair.

"You are not helping matters," Thor scolded. "Why would you try to make this more difficult on yourself?"

"Stop prolonging the inevitable. Just have them throw me in a cell and lock away the key. You know that's what they are going to do anyway," Loki snarled. He winced from moving the muscles on his face too much.

"If that was what was to happen, then we would have simply stayed on Asgard."

"That would have been my vote, you oaf," Loki muttered.

"Mine too," Bruce quipped, not taking his eyes off the equations scrolling across the tablet in his lap.

"See, both of the monsters in the room think my incarceration would be a good idea," Loki said snidely, but faltered when he saw that Bruce breathing heavily and glaring at him.

"It is not a good idea to make me angry," the doctor's tone grew fiercer with each word. A tinge of green passed across his face like a moving shadow.

Loki tried not to show fear and fought the urge to lean closer to Thor, but it must not have worked. Bruce's face cracked into a huge grin and his round brown eyes twinkled like fireflies in a Disney movie. "I'm sorry. That was mean, but for a god of lies, you're easily fooled," he taunted, all traces of hulking out gone.

Bruce was apparently the only one in the room amused.

Loki hid his sigh of relief by slouching down into the cushions. He closed his eyes and pouted his lips to give the impression of boredom. In reality, he was exhausted.

"No sir, that won't be necessary," Steve said, presumably to Director Fury on the line. "I don't think we should bring him to a S.H.E.I.L.D. facility, either." A pause. "Of course I don't trust him," at this Steve looked up apologetically to both Thor and Loki, who cringed and ignored him, respectively. Steve pinched his nose between his fingers and turned away. It seemed the call was going just as bad as was expected.

"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice interrupted the uncomfortable group, "Your scotch has arrived."

"Thank God," Tony perked up, "I'm starving."

* * *

§

* * *

[4] **James Chinlund, the production designer for the movie, said in an interview that "Tony Stark bought the iconic MetLife Building and ripped off the top adding his own piece of parasitic architecture to the top." Not that this is important to know, I just thought it was cool. Anyway, Wikipedia says that the Stark Tower is 93 stories tall and that Tony used the top three floors as his state-of-the-art bachelor pad, which he later gave over to the Avengers as their base of operations. So ****_my educated guess_**** is that Loki threw Stark out of the 92nd floor.**

[5] **_Bozhe moi_**** (боже мой) is Russian for ****_my God_****. Technically, I think that ****_slava bogu_**** (слава богу), which is ****_thank god_**** according to Google Translate, would have been more appropriate in the story, but I really liked the way Natasha said ****_bozhe moi_**** in the movie. I just didn't get the same feeling when I imagined her saying ****_slava_****_bogu_**** in the scene.**

[6] **No seriously, this happened... go Google ****Thor #364 "Frog of Thunder"**** where Loki turns Thor into a talking frog who battles it out with sinister rats in Central Park. Truly ribbiting material... ****_I am not funny enough to make this stuff up, so I really shouldn't make terrible puns about it_****. The eighties were a toadally radical time for comics... ****_Oh God, someone make me stop before I hurt myself_****. :-)**


	6. Risk vs benefit analysis

******Author's Note**

**Who remembers paying for online service ****_by the hour_****? CompuServe email addresses with those ridiculous strings of numbers? Yeah, fun times.**

**I thought an archived email would be a fun change over my ordinary flashbacks; however, note that this 'email' flashback section isn't in _italics_ (as the others were). Also, I had to really search Character Map to come up with something similar to the necessary symbols to approximate an email address. The FanFiction filters block anything resembling websites or emails, which sucks when you want to have an email ****_in your story_****. **

**Anyway, I digress. As I was saying, these email addresses are totally made up. Please visualize them using real 'at' symbols, proper dot com/org domains and maybe in a Courier New or pixelated font (if you feel like going all out with your imagination).**

******Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter.** Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine. Same goes for CompuServe. Let me put it this way, anything you recognize = not me.

**~ Refictionista, July 24, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter V **§  
risk vs. benefit analysis

* * *

A very displeased Director Fury arrived within minutes at Stark Tower, along with three dozen well armed and mortally serious-looking agents. Earlier, Hill had expressed her reservations about his going in person to meet with the Avengers and the war criminal Loki, but he almost immediately dismissed her recommendation to stay behind. He was fairly certain that she was not going to go straight to the World Security Council with her concerns, but he needed to move quickly before she became too apprehensive.

His ire rose higher when he walked into the lounge, still undergoing renovations on the 91st floor of Stark Tower. Tony Stark was sitting on a couch with a half empty bottle of a very expensive Scotch next to him on an end table, which he was currently reaching for to pour into an empty lowball glass. He had one foot resting on the other leg's knee and seemed to be thumping out to music playing only in his head. After taking a sip, Stark started playing air guitar, belting out "_When will this nightmare be over? Tell me! When can I empty my head?_"[7] His terrible attempt at singing was the only noise in the room, and Fury hated heavy metal.

Dr. Bruce Banner paid no attention to Stark seated the other end of the couch. He was intently reading a tablet placed on the coffee table in front of him and taking notes. He briefly looked up over the top of his glasses when Fury and his entourage arrived, but went right back to reading. Agents Romanoff and Barton were nowhere to be found.

Across the room on another couch, though this one was covered by a dusty and paint-splattered canvas tarp, sat Thor, god of thunder, drinking a beer. A _beer_. Like nothing was going on to cause any concern. Like his murdering son of a bitch brother sitting in the chair next to him was no big fucking deal. Loki was slouched down in the tarp covered cushions, eyes closed, either sleeping or bored. This pissed Fury off more. Captain Steve Rogers was behind Loki's chair, arms crossed and leaning against an exposed steel pillar from a wall waiting for Sheetrock. When Captain Rogers noticed Fury, he stood up straight and put his hands behind his back. He was the only one who seemed to notice or care that the director of S.H.E.I.L.D. had just arrived with a small army.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Am I interrupting?!"

Rogers looked confused, "Sir, we were waiting on you to arrive."

"How very thoughtful of you Captain. Is there any particular reason that the alien cocksucker responsible for bringing war to us is taking a nap, unrestrained, when he should be locked up?"

"Well, I'm unfortunately sleeping no longer, if that is of any consequence to you," Loki said, his eyes still closed. Thor kicked his brother, who opened his eyes and gave him a dirty look in return. The S.H.E.I.L.D. agents streamed out from behind Fury, filing into the room quickly and aimed their weapons at Loki. The god of lies rolled his head, still resting on the back of the chair, lazily around in an arc from side to side to see the all of the armed men, "Overkill, don't you think?" Thor kicked him again. Loki picked up his head, "Cease your childish antics, rasshøl."

"Sir, he was in restraints when he arrived." Rogers replied. He hesitated, "But then they were removed because-"

"Because Surfer Ken over there said we weren't allowed to hit him anymore if he was wearing the manacles," Stark interrupted. He chortled, "Kinda like the Jerry Springer Show when they kicked off their shoes before a fight... anyway, we had him lose the restraints, just in case Banner wanted a chew toy." Dr. Banner grinned and finished writing something, and then he looked up at Fury with that twinkle from earlier in his eyes and nodded, somewhat gleefully, in agreement.

Looking at Dr. Banner, Fury suppressed a shiver. Not that he would show it, of course, but the man had the singular ability to scare him even more than Loki... or _any _other man, god or alien for that matter. The idea of even Loki becoming his "chew toy" was frightening. He pushed the horrifying images of the Hulk out of his mind.

Stark seemed to finally take notice of the armed me on the other side of the room. "Hey... J.A.R.V.I.S., how did the men with guns get up here?"

"They took your executive elevator, sir," the A.I. system responded promptly.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., remind me to discuss how I want you to answer my questions and the importance of giving me a heads up later."

"Yes, sir."

Black Widow and Hawkeye arrived, walking into the unfinished lounge from a hallway on the side of the building not currently under construction. "Sir," they both said to Fury. They stopped at Banner and Stark's side of the room. Romanoff turned to Stark, "Sorry about them catching you off-guard like that," she shrugged unapologetically, "Fury had us disable your-"

Fury held up a hand, "Now that we are all _here_, someone needs to explain the situation to me." His glowering eye looked at each face

Thor put his beer down, but remained seated, "Our father decreed that my brother is to make amends to the people of Midgard. He and I shall spend a fortnight here, amongst the mortals, where he will perform acts of goodwill and recompense, thereafter we shall return for a sennight to Asgard. This cycle continues until the All-Father orders otherwise. In return, as king and ruler of Asgard, he pledges his troth to personally come to the aid of Midgard should Loki or aught threaten your realm again."

Fury didn't even know where to begin.

"You call that answering for his crimes? Walking free here on earth doing good deeds, then going back home on vacation?" Fury went back to his original question, "Why isn't he in a cell?"

"Nay, you will not imprison my brother while he resides in this realm, that is a surety. Verily, his time in Asgard will be no holiday, for he is to-"

"Remember that I got out of the last cage you tried to use on me," Loki interjected smugly. "Don't tell me that you are foolish enough to try that mistake again," he paused, "or perhaps with only one eye you have difficulty seeing such problems. Don't be ashamed mortal; Odin suffers from a similar affliction."

* * *

"Something's up," Natasha said quietly, watching the heated exchange grow between Director Fury and the god of thunder. "Loki isn't lying, but he isn't telling the truth either."

"You mean other than how he likely plans on killing us all in our sleep and trying to take over the planet again the next morning?" Tony had stood up to join her and Clint.

"No, it was something about toads," said Bruce.

"What do you think is his play?" Clint asked, ignoring Tony and Bruce.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," replied Natasha.

Natasha walked over to crowded side of the room without notice; everyone's eyes were on Loki. She positioned herself towards the center of the group, almost between Loki and Fury. Inspecting Loki more closely than before, since this time, thanks to Clint's earlier... _assistance_, she had the advantage of doing so without emotion. The god of mischief wasn't bored; he looked... exhausted. Dark circles hung under his eyes and his pale dry skin hung almost loosely from his face and neck. Plus, his expression was _off_ somehow. Frightened? Maybe. What would... what _could_ possibly frighten him?

"You think that you can spend two weeks at a time here on Earth to make up for what you have done?" Natasha asked. Fury was currently arguing with Thor; Loki turned his attention from them to her, but said nothing. Then he seemed to lose his focus and his green eyed gaze went straight through her. _No_, she thought_, Loki isn't frightened_.

"Do you really think you can get rid of that much red off your ledger?" she worked harder for a response from him, her tone now sarcastic and mocking.

Once again, the Black Widow's singular and specific skill set was rewarded. Loki blinked and directed his attention back to her, "No better than you, my dear. Could you wipe out that much red?"

"I'd like to wipe it out."

"Can you? Dreykov's daughter, Sao Paulo, the hospital fire?" Loki said, repeating information Hawkeye had told him while under his spell. "Nothing will make up for those horrors; the same as it is for me. What I have done is a part of me, and that will never go away."

"So you think your debts are impossible to repay?"

Loki started laughing. "No amount of our suffering would ever equal what you or I have wrought."

Natasha's demeanor quickly changed. Loki looked at her, confusion evident in his face at the redhead's wide-eyed expression. She said nothing as the room seemed to watch for any further reaction from her, but she gave no clue as to what she was thinking. She simply nodded to Fury as if affirming something, then turned and walked back over to Clint's side. Tony poked her in the shoulder in an attempt to get her to share what she had discovered. Apparently unwilling to share and annoyed by his too forceful nudge, she whispered something harshly in return. Tony cringed and covered his groin with a hand. Clint smirked.

Fury exhaled, it was time for the god of lies to start talking. He wanted some answers. The bastard owed him that much. "Let's take a step back and start at the beginning. Now," he glared at the unrepentant looking god sulking before him, "not that I trust you, but why does the boot want to make amends with the ants?"

* * *

§

* * *

˃** From**: ˂721978.5248(a)compuserve·com˃ "Blanche Bergstrom"  
˃ **Message-Id**: ˂8Xwzlolz311785(a)compuserve·com˃  
˃ **To**: ˂njfury1948(a)615712·un·org˃[8] "Nick Fury"  
˃** Subject**: keep her safe  
˃ **Date**: Wed, 18 Oct 1996 14:24:35 +0100

˃ Nick,

˃ By the time you read this, I will be dead. Know this; it was your actions that lead to my end.  
˃ As such, you owe me a life debt. You will now heed what I tried to tell you earlier.

˃ Your scientists were wrong when they said with certainty that the situation was neutralized. The  
˃ explosion that Sidney tried to hold back would have eventually escaped from within her body. She  
˃ merely bought the people around her time to get themselves to safety, nothing more.

˃ To save her and ultimately those around her, I struck a bargain; however, the only recompense  
˃ the Old Magic would accept was to trade my life for hers.

˃ You will now keep Sidney safe. Do not try to revive her. She is to sleep undisturbed until her  
˃ purpose from my bargain can be fulfilled.

˃ I thought of threatening you to take your debt to me seriously, but we both know I don't need to.

˃ Blanche Bergström

˃ - -  
˃ All emails remain property of CompuServe, Inc.

* * *

§

* * *

"They asked you a question, _why_ did you kill Coulson?" Fury insisted. His and the expressions from the rest of room were singed with fire. Except for the Black Widow, whose face was devoid of emotion, and Thor, who looked at his brother with such regret that Loki had to turn away.

"I can't answer that," Loki finally responded.

"Bullshit," Stark spat, "answer the damn question."

"Can't or won't, brother?" Thor urged.

"I don't know how to answer that question," Loki answered slowly. He regretfully looked around the room, and the next words came stumbling out of his mouth, "He wasn't supposed to die."

"He wasn't _supposed_ to die," Fury repeated incredulously. "How exactly did you intend to stab a man through the heart _without_ killing him?" he asked.

Loki started laughing. His hands shook as he covered his face, "Why do you insist on such senseless queries of a madman?" No one answered his question, so he continued, "I had the sight, or I _thought_ I had the sight. My powers of premonition were never as powerful as our mother's," Loki looked a Thor, who nodded in questioning agreement. "Simply put, I foresaw your Agent Coulson alive after our encounter. I didn't think I would or could kill him." He withdrew his hand from his forehead, and looked at Fury with haunted eyes, "Obviously, I was wrong."

An unreadable expression crossed Fury's face,[9] "You didn't _think_ you could kill him?" The director's anger had dissolved into slightly caustic confusion.

Loki said nothing.

Thor coughed, "Verily, I believe he speaks in truth."

"Are you serious? He is the _god of lies_," said Stark. "Is he even capable of the truth? Or are you just trying to cover for him?"

"You question my honor, Man of Iron?"

"It matters not!" Loki shouted, never raising his head. His dark hair hung limply in clumps over his face. His shoulders fell as if suddenly under an unexpected weight. "Silence, you squabbling fools," he continued, this time without any strength or conviction in his voice. He looked up at Stark, "In regards to the murder of your comrade, either I speak the truth, having fallen prey to delusions that he would live, or I lie, in which case I am still the monster you know me to be." Loki looked then to Fury, "Neither option changes my original statement; I cannot answer your question."

Fury's permanent frown didn't waiver, his one eye bored holes into Loki's. "If, and this a pretty damn big if, I were to believe you had actually believed this magical premonition that you wouldn't kill Agent Coulson, then what should I expect now from you? Better yet, what would you have done differently?"

"You're asking what I would have changed?" Loki asked. Fury nodded. "Nothing," said Loki.

Before the room could erupt in shouting again, Fury asked, "Why would you have changed nothing?"

"Your floating fortress was falling from the sky. Your heroes were scattered," Loki looked around the room. "Looking back, you, all of you, needed a push in the right direction. You needed to work as a team to vanquish an enemy as powerful as me." He turned to look again at Fury, "In hindsight, I see that the mortal Coulson's death was a catalyst that brought about my defeat. Would you truly have me wish to change what ultimately happened? If that is so, then perhaps you are more of a monster than I."

Either the silver-tongued Asgardian was an exceptional manipulator or showing genuine remorse. Possibly both.

"Fair enough," said Fury, no one else in the room contradicted him, each of them looking around at their fellow Avengers uncertainly. Fury, however, stared solely at Loki for a long time. Finally, he asked, "You never answered my other question. What should I expect from you now?"

"I expect to repay my debt to the people of your planet two weeks at a time," Loki replied. "Fortunately for me, I'm immortal... or close enough compared when compared to your pathetically short life spans." Thor tried to kick Loki a third time, but this time his brother teleported to the other side of Thor's couch. This caused quite a bit of alarm for the men aiming their guns at him.

Fury turned to Romanoff, "I thought you said he didn't have his magic."

"Sir, that's not exactly what Thor told us," said Barton.

Loki sighed and tried to return the conversation back to where he had been before the big oaf had sidetracked him. He continued, more tactfully this time, "Considering the possible continuance I have, I suspect that I may have enough time to finish such an undertaking." He looked up and focused on Fury, "Know this Director, I care not what your decision will be, but I will adhere to it. I have given my mother and my," he cringed, "_Thor_ my word on this." He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face, the palms of his hands pressing on his eyes.

Fury nodded once and stood up. Afterwards, an unseen signal passed between him and the heavily armed agents surrounding Loki; they all lowered their weapons. He looked at Thor, "You and your father would be powerful allies to Earth, and I am inclined to accept your offer of our involvement in your brother's rehabilitation. We learned when you first arrived that only are we not alone in this universe, but we are hopelessly, hilariously outgunned." He looked back at Loki, "The world is filling up with people that can't be matched, that can't be controlled. Our recent attempts proved to me that Earth is not ready for a higher form of war, so... yes, it will definitely be my recommendation that we agree to your offer. As I see it, the benefits far outweigh the risks."

Thor smiled broadly. "My friend, Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D., I give you my thanks and the thanks of the All-father," he boomed.

Loki said nothing.

* * *

§

* * *

[7] **Lyrics from _God is Dead?_, a song by Black Sabbath** **featured in the album _13_. Tony, who wore a Black Sabbath T-shirt in the movie, would totally sing this in an attempt to annoy Loki. FYI, I don't own them either.  
**

[8] **S.H.I.E.L.D. was originally backed by the United Nations, hence the UN dot org email address I created for Nick Fury.**

[9] **Spoiler! For those of you unfamiliar with the television series, _Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._, guess what... Coulson isn't dead. Though he appeared to have died at the hands of Loki in _The Avengers_, it is revealed in the series pilot that he was revived by medical technicians under Director Fury's orders after having been clinically dead for eight seconds (possibly more than eight seconds... you'll have to watch the show to find out more).**


	7. From a deep slumber she shall wake

**Author's Note  
**

**Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, August 1, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter VI **§  
from a deep slumber she shall wake

* * *

"I can think of better things to do with my time than performing menial labor," Loki muttered to his brother. The dark-haired prince seemed very out of place, the leather of his simple yet elegant gold and green armor a stark contrast to the grey and black cloth uniforms of the S.H.I.E.L.D. crews mincing about them. He cringed at the thought of performing the tasks of a servant. "This is beneath me. I am a god, and I shall not be bullied by these dull creatures."

"Do you remember none of your promises? You gave me your word to recompense this world." Thor said.

"Yes, well if it's all the same to you, then I'd like to be thrown back into a cage now."

"Agreed, I can easily think of better things to do with my time than babysitting you," Natasha Romanoff said condescendingly as she and Steve Rogers joined them.

"Yet, here you are," Loki mocked.

"I pulled the short straw," Romanoff rumbled in return. Loki tilted his head, not understanding. He looked over to Captain Rogers for an explanation. Loki had learned that the soldier out of time was one of the few Avengers, perhaps the only one besides his brother, who made any attempt at politeness towards him. For the most part, Loki found Captain America's do-gooder attitude almost unbearably boring, but he admitted to himself that the man had his uses.

"She means being here wasn't her choice," Rogers clarified. "Director Fury had a lottery using straws of different lengths," he nodded over to the Black Widow, "and she just happened to snatch the one that made her the loser, the _short_ straw."

Somewhat chastened, Loki nodded in understanding. It angered him that only one who had lost gambling would spend time with him, but it was not much different than his life on Asgard. If anything, his station was more honestly dealt with here on Midgard. He affixed a formal mask and tone to hide the sting of the slight, "I see. My apologies for the shortness of your snatch, m'lady."

A shocked expression crossed Agent Romanoff's face, and then she stared venomously at Loki until he started to feel uncomfortable. "Have I offended you just now in some way?" he asked.

She gave him an intense glare that could have pierced a vein, and then walked away. Loki looked questioningly at Rogers, who shrugged. "I'm the wrong one to ask about dames," said the soldier.

Thor looked hesitantly at the two of them and then at Romanoff who had stormed off to a spot a few yards away. She was now angrily opening and slamming shut the lids of nearby container crates. "Shall I... Should I stay?" he asked. He looked off in the distance, towards an outer door. "Lady Jane arrives any moment, and I am most anxious to greet her."

Loki had blissfully forgotten about the dull and depressingly plain scientist. _What do those two possibly see in each other? _Pinching his nose, he avoided looking at his oaf of a brother. "Go. Your presence will not make this monotony any less tedious. Quite the opposite, in fact. As such, you belong with the lady."

"Excellent," said Thor grinning broadly, oblivious to the sarcasm. He clapped Loki with his trunk of an arm across Loki's back and shoulders, "We should feast together on the morrow!"

Loki faltered forward from the force of the friendly gesture, and it annoyed him. Greatly. "Oh, I'm sure your lady would _love_..."

"Perhaps, we could _all_ share a meal," Rogers interjected. He gave Loki a look, urging him to be quiet. Thor, still beaming, gave them both a quick bow with his head and trampled off in a way only the god of thunder could do.

"You will quickly exhaust yourself, should you continue your attempts to mitigate my behavior," Loki quietly told Rogers after Thor left.

"Actually, your shenanigans already exhaust me."

"I'm bored," complained Loki, never once considering an apology for his behavior.

Rogers gave Loki a concerned look. Romanoff, having rejoined them, laughed, "No one wants a bored god of mischief."

"Were I a mere mortal like you, I would consider it dangerous. So, yes, it probably isn't in your best interests," Loki pouted truthfully.

"Look," Rogers said, "let's just get these crates cleared from the hangar bay. I'll help; we'll get done twice as fast. Then, maybe we can spend some time finding something more suitable for everyone here." Loki looked unconvinced, but Rogers continued. "I don't think," he paused, "much thought... was put into what kind of service would benefit both S.H.I.E.L.D. and _you_."

_An understatement, if there ever was any_, thought Loki. He wasn't entirely convinced by the soldier's optimistic suggestion, but it did introduce a tiny spark of hope. They assessed each other critically and then both looked over at Romanoff. "I'm not lifting a damn thing to help him out," she spurted. She gave Loki another glare. "Get started over there," she pointed to stack of crates, "I'll be right next to you, keeping an eye out to make sure not one toe steps out of line. Now, move."

"You will regret ordering me about thusly, sniveling mortal," Loki threatened, much too softly to be heard by the Black Widow.

* * *

Having a god with magical powers was actually quite an asset when it came to moving heavy equipment. With a flick of a wrist or a nod of his head, Loki could levitate considerable weight with ease onto the beds of the waiting forklifts. Those, in turn, took their loads to outgoing trucks in the above ground loading bays. Rogers worked in silence along side Loki, interrupting only to make sure that the particular crate or equipment was indeed on the list of items slotted for relocation.

It was about two hours into their efforts, during the hottest part of the afternoon, when _the_ mistake occurred.

Rogers had bent over to examine a container with an assortment heavy machinery inside. With one heel against a steel support beam, he shifted his weight to force the huge load into a position where he could view the identifying tags. Had he noticed the slick oil patch collecting at the base of the pillar, he would have rethought the effort.

Unfortunately, he did not notice how his foot was positioned directly over the oil. He did notice his leg as it slipped backwards spectacularly in a clumsy and comical manner before he accidentally kicked the machinery behind the pillar. To keep himself from falling, he grabbed for the wooden paneling of the storage crate. As Rogers straightened himself up, he heard a strange clicking noise that sounded very much like a clock. However, each tick was followed by a faint hiss.

Behind him was the control panel to a larger machine, and realized his boot must have collided with a dog lever near the bottom. He looked behind the console and saw...

_A coffin_.

Well, at first glance Rogers thought it was a coffin. It was some sort of clear plastic or glass tank above a metal support filled with blue grey smoke swirling around a body. He guessed what was in it was a body; there was what appeared to be the outline of a human body through the vapors. The hissing grew louder and the smoke began dissipating. Yes, it was definitely a body, a woman.

"Hey, guys! Get over here," Rogers shouted. "Hurry!"

Romanoff and Loki, already having been on their way over when they heard the crash from Rogers' tumble, quickened their strides. Actually, Romanoff hastened over with a worried look on her face while Loki looked put upon. Rogers, uncomfortable with this unknown technology, was backing up away from the machine.

"Vot der'mo,"[10] said Romanoff.

Running down the center of the glass cylinder was seam of both metal and plastic. Indicators along the seam began to light up along regularly spaced latches. These lit clamps holding the seam together then unlatched simultaneously, and the two sides of the glass cylinder began to lower into the metal sides below the tank. A puff of cold pressurized air was released. The remaining smoke inside dissipated completely, revealing who was inside.

She was a slender young woman, in her late teens or possibly even early twenties, with skin so pale and cold that she was practically translucent. There were burn marks and soot on her pale cerulean silk blouse and she was missing one of her red Converse All-Star sneakers. Both her hands had been wrapped hastily in bandages. Her long muted-blonde hair, perhaps once beautiful and lustrous, was lank and brittle with faint ice crystals on the tips and around her hairline. She wasn't lying flat on her back. Instead, her body was twisted, her head rolled over to one side as if she had been dumped in the chamber unceremoniously.

The three stared at her for less than half a second, when their attention was drawn to a monitor on the control panel. It was some sort of odd ECG-like machine, and it now sounded an alarm as it showed a rapidly frightening arrhythmia.

"Get her out of there," Romanoff ordered. Rogers and Loki reached inside to grab the woman, then placed her on the ground away from the machine. Rogers shook his hands in an attempt to warm them after releasing her.

Rogers looked at Loki, "I don't suppose you could use magic to help her?"

"I cannot, _I should not_ use healing magic without knowing the source of her malady. Even simply warming her could end in disaster," Loki replied. "She has no wounds that I can see." He lazily tilted his head, thinking. "Her hands are bound as if injured, but I do not see how such a thing could be life threatening."

Romanoff, already on the ground next to her, nodded as if she had asked Loki the question herself. The beeping of the machine continued with the unusually fast yet sporadic rhythm. She turned to Rogers, who stood unmoving behind Loki. "Steve, go get help, and tell the medic to bring an AED!" He ran to an intercom on the other side of the hangar.

It was then that the monitor sounded another alarm as the irregular heart rate stopped altogether.

"She flat lined," Romanoff said. She looked up in the direction that Rogers had run. "Steve, tell them to bring epinephrine!" she shouted. She searched around quickly, and then gave Loki a resigned look, "I'm going to need your help." He said nothing in return, merely crouched down on the other side of the prone body before them.

Romanoff checked for pulse and breathing, finding neither. She unbuttoned halfway down the woman's blouse, and placed the heels of both hands on top of each other near the bottom of her ribcage. She interlocked her fingers, straightened her arms and then brought the full force of her weight from her shoulders down fiercely on the chest of the unconscious woman beneath her. Loki's heightened senses heard the crunching sound of the woman's ribs snapping away from her sternum.

Then, Romanoff starting singing, "_Ah, ha, ha, ha. Stayin' alive. Stayin' alive._"[11] She performed chest compressions in sync with the beat of the disco era song. Once her rhythm was going, she looked over at wide-eyed god of mischief next to her, "Loki, put the heel of your hand on her forehead and pinch her nose shut. Use the other hand to keep her chin tilted up." She glanced over, "Okay, good. Now, when I tell you, cover her mouth with your own and give her two full breaths." Loki raised an eyebrow, but nodded in questioning obedience. Romanoff pushed hard and fast a couple more times on the woman's chest as he watched, bemused.

"Loki, now," Romanoff ordered. Loki leaned over and breathed twice as instructed. The prone woman's chest rose slightly, then Romanoff resumed compressions.

A few minutes later, Rogers and a S.H.I.E.L.D agent arrived followed by a paramedic, the latter carrying emergency equipment. Loki paid them no heed as he considered the young woman lying before him.

Her energy was skewed and her aura was full of static and discord, this he had sensed this since first laying eyes on her. Loki finally realized when his lips touched hers that she was suffering from a sudden and drastic withdrawal from the veiled realm. _This is no ordinary human_, he thought. He unexpectedly felt inclined to help the fellow magic user, and so he placed his hands over her head, pressing two fingers on her temple on both sides. Loki then tried to fill her void with his own energy. Unfortunately, his attempted transference either had no effect, or she was too weak... or he was too weak.

Romanoff was motioning for the EMT, giving him a run down of the woman's apparent condition. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had remained standing off to the side; he listened to what the Black Widow said and afterwards took off running back in the direction he came. As the paramedic came forward with a syringe in his hand, Loki looked up and frowned. "Stop, you won't be able to help her with that," he commanded, but the paramedic ignored him. "Tell your fool to stand back," he shouted to Romanoff. She opened her mouth to protest, but then snapped it shut. The Black Widow had apparently decided to let an enemy help the woman, as the look in her eyes showed that she still didn't trust him fully. She nodded at the EMT to stand down; however, he only did so after she forcibly held him at bay by the arm.

Satisfied, Loki leaned over the unconscious woman's face again, tilting her chin back as he did before. Once again, he filled her lips with his breath, but this time he focused on saturating her with his energy instead of just the air from his lungs.

It worked.

* * *

§

* * *

The anticipation that began recently was now over, and Sydney tried to hold on to her complicated existence in the colorful and musical world as long as she could. Reality was sinking in, but she didn't want to lose the beauty that surrounded her. After all, she knew that she was looking at magic itself... _and who would ever want to give that up?_

So when the vague existence started to fade away as she felt someone's lips on her own, she resisted. At first because she could neither hear the music she had learned to love nor feel the magic which had been her companion for so long. Then because a stranger was _kissing_ her.

_What the hell?_

This time Sydney_ knew_ that she was alive, since there was far too much pain for anything else to be true and she could _feel_ the presence of someone with powerful magic above her mouth. Then without warning, pain was all she could feel as the pressure left her lips, and she almost cried at the loss of contact. "Tell your healer to cease his preparations, she lives," she heard the man next to her, the one who kissed her, say with a slight British accent.

Sydney was confused; the one thought repeating in her mind was _what is happening_? It didn't matter, she was alive. She was alive! "I thought this was my famous sleep. I'm so glad I was wrong," she said; her voice felt like sand paper on her throat. Sydney tried to smile, but the muscles of her cheeks were on fire from the effort of the few words she had uttered.

"What did she say?" a woman on her other side said.

Someone next to the woman was taking her pulse. She heard the voice of a much younger man, "Ma'am, can you hear me? Are you okay?" Sydney nodded, just slightly, in response. "What's your name?"

"Sydney," she croaked. "Sydney Bergström."

"Okay, Sydney. Do you know where you are?"

Sydney opened her eyes, looking around through tiny slits in confusion. Everything was blurry and far too bright. She nodded that she did not know where she was and closed her eyes again.

The younger man next to the woman must have been a nurse or paramedic, because she felt him put a blood pressure cuff on her arm. "That's okay. Do you know what year it is?" he asked.

"1996."

"Did she say 1996?" another voice near her feet asked.

Sydney felt a pen light being shined into her eyes as the paramedic forced open her eyelids. She tried to protest, but ended up coughing instead.

"What year do you think it is, Sydney?"

"1996," she said less confidently. Sydney heard someone make a concerned huff. She was able to open her eyes again, but couldn't read or even see their expressions.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" It was definitely an EMT asking these questions; Sydney looked toward the direction of his voice and could make out a large patch on the chest pocket of his uniform now. It was an eagle with the word "MEDIC" stitched in large, friendly letters over the body and wings of the bird.[12] Tears formed at the strain it took for her to read it.

"The lady is becoming increasingly distressed with these questions," the first man asked. _That isn't a British accent_, Sydney thought, but she couldn't place it. The strange dialect only added to the list of things that she didn't understand.

"What... what year is it?" Sydney asked. "How did I get here!?"

Silence.

"We need to take her to quarantine," finally said the voice at her feet.

_Quarantine? _"No," Sydney yelled, or as close as she could manage with her scratchy throat. She tried to sit up, but the pain to lift herself was so much worse than when she tried to simply smile earlier. She winced at the pain in her arm and shoulders. "Please," she whispered, "where am I?"

"You are two stories underground in one of the storage bay hangers at S.H.I.E.L.D. Central Campus in New York City," said the woman. Her voice wasn't exactly kind, but her tone seemed much gentler. Sydney looked at her, but the only thing she could get her eyes to focus on was the woman's red hair. It made the featureless blur of the woman's pale face appear as if it was on fire.

"New York?" Sydney asked.

"Yes, and it is 2014."

Sydney could sense that the red-headed woman was telling the truth, and whatever else the woman was now saying became static and drowned away. The situation was too much to handle, and Sydney cried out in fear and anguish as everything around her started getting dark. The last thing she knew before finally passing out was the arms of the stranger, the one with the strange accent, holding her and the soft rich smell of his leather clad shoulders.

* * *

§

* * *

[10] **_Vot der'mo_ (Вот дерьмо) is Russian (according to Google Translate) for _Oh crap_.**

[11] **Lyrics from ****_Stayin' Alive_****, a song by the Bee Gees from the ****_Saturday Night Fever_**** motion picture soundtrack (which I don't own either). When I was taught CPR by my company's safety director, he told us that most people never learned how fast and how hard to do chest compressions. He told us to do them to the beat of ****_Stayin'Alive_****, and I always thought that would be a very useful tidbit to share.**

[12] **Large, friendly letters...that's right... _Don't Panic_. LOL.**


	8. Health is the real wealth

******Author's Note**

**Regarding the previous chapter, I realize that you probably wouldn't wake up someone who had been ****_frozen_**** with CPR. Please forgive me; it was an opening too easy to not take and became a necessary evil... So... ****_Let it go, let it go. Turn away and slam the door!_**

**Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine. I also don't own Coca-Cola, Apple, or anything else you recognize... but you already knew that... _didn't you_?  
**

**~ Refictionista, August 8, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter VII **§  
health is the real wealth

* * *

It was an annoying beep that woke her. Just as blissful silence had lasted for _almost_ enough time so that her mind might finally start to drift off enough for her to go back to sleep, the incessant noise would jolt and shake at her consciousness.

Beep.

_Ugh... what the? Who cares... it's gone. Silence. Almost back asleep._

Beep.

_Shut up, go away... Ahh... Silence. Almost asleep._

Beep.

_Damn it. Fine. I'm awake. Happy now?_

Beep.

Sydney opened her eyes. She was in a hospital room, but she already knew that. All hospitals smelled the same, like hand sanitizer, cheap plastic and illness. Her bed was in a semi-reclined position and she felt surprisingly soft fabric underneath her. She blinked, looking around the entirely too bright room with slightly hazy vision. Alone, she was alone. The sound of low voices carried in from the hallway outside an open door, but nothing audible enough to understand. She discovered that the beeping came from a piece of equipment near the rear of her bed. There was a screen on the monitor showing a flashing exclamation point in a yellow triangle, but she had no idea what the alarm meant or if it was important.

When she had twisted to see the sadistic source what was making that annoying noise, she became aware of the pain in her chest. It was as if an elephant was sitting there. _Did she have broken ribs?_ Sydney resolved to not move her upper torso again, until she heard the next beep and gave an involuntary cringe. _Ouch_.

With just the tips of her fingers showing, both her hands were bound in bandages. They hurt too. She had one unhappy finger in the constant mild vice grip of an oximeter. Sydney yanked that off, but it made no difference to the evil beeping machine behind her. Looking down at her hospital gown, this one in a lovely shade of avocado puke, she noticed more leads going down and attached to various positions on her chest, possibly attached even further below. She was about to start tearing those off as well, picking experimentally at the edge of the adhesive on one electrode, when she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"You probably shouldn't do that, miss," a masculine voice said off to her left.

Embarrassed, Sydney guiltily withdrew her hand from the lead near her clavicle as if she had been caught doing something wrong. She was not alone. Looking over with care not to move too much, she noticed that the curtain next to her bed had almost hidden a man sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair. If he had been leaning back earlier when she had first looked around the room, then she wouldn't have noticed him. Well, she might have possibly noticed his feet if she had considered glancing down at the floor, but she hadn't.

Her eyesight was still blurry, but if she focused enough then she was able to make out more distinct details before the strain was too much after a couple minutes of effort. The man was clean shaven, easily over six feet tall, and had a muscular build clearly defined through several layers of clothing. His dark blonde hair was slicked back, in a style that made him somehow look older than he likely was... Mid to late twenties was Sydney's guess. He watched her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say something. Sydney, now a bit peeved at feeling reprimanded, folded her arms over her chest gingerly. She didn't recognize him, but she had the feeling he had been sitting there for a while. The thought was unnerving.

"Why are you here?" she finally said.

He looked surprised. "Excuse me," he replied in confusion.

"Why are you here?" she said again slowly, enunciating each word with precision as if he might have difficulty understanding English.

"I'm... My name is Steve. Steve Rogers. I work here, in a way. Well, I don't actually work _here_, in the hospital. You weren't... doing too well earlier, and now you're in a hospital."

"Okay, Steve," Sydney said tolerantly. "I realize I'm in a hospital, likely because something was or is wrong with me. I'm certainly in enough pain for something to be wrong, that's for sure." She nodded to her other side, "Two empty and _that_ IV bag is nearly. Based on my guess at the flow rate of the drip, and the fact that I stink," she wrinkled her nose, "I've been here a while. However, I'm not interested in any of that right now. Who you are, what is wrong with me, and where I am is less important to me at this moment than why _you_ are sitting in a chair next to my hospital bed, instead of my aunt or a friend."

"Oh," he said.

"Oh," she echoed.

He took in a deep breath, and Sydney could almost see his mind working out what to say to her. Finally, he said, "You were in stasis for a long time. I was in a... similar situation. I thought I could help you... once you woke up, again."

A faint memory came trickling forward. In the blink of an eye, the flashback grew clear and became something dark and horrifying. The knowledge strangling her, air was sucked out of her lungs making her feel nauseous. She hugged her arms over herself tightly; she didn't feel the pain that caused. "So it's true, what that red-headed woman said?" she whispered. "Is it really 2014?"

"Yes," he said simply but with sympathy.

"Eighteen years?"

Steve didn't respond, but the pitying look on his face confirmed his answer.

"My aunt, my great-aunt, she's my only family. Her name is Blanche Bergström... she was already elderly back in..." something inside her broke. Sydney's blurred vision disappeared completely as she started to cry.

Her tears seemed to make Steve uncomfortable; she could hear him squirming in his seat. "I'm sorry," he said. She heard him get up and walk across the room, then the sound of sink's tap flowing.

_Water._

He came back to her side, and she felt a small plastic cup pressed into her hands. "Here," he said, "the nurse said if you woke up, then you could have a drink. Just sip it slowly."

Sydney held the cup awkwardly with her bandaged hands and took a small sip gratefully. The water tasted better than any she ever remembered drinking, and it made her feel much better, "Thank you." She tried to give a grateful smile, but the slight twitch she forced on the corners of her mouth didn't reach her eyes. He sat back down, pulling the chair closer to her bed. _Strange that he hasn't gone to get a nurse or a doctor_, thought Sydney.

"What is _famous sleep_?" he asked several minutes later, after her breathing had calmed.

"Famous sleep?" Sydney repeated.

"That's what you said when you woke up. That you were glad you were wrong; that this wasn't your famous sleep."

Sydney's brows knitted together and she gave Steve a questioning look. Then after a moment, realization swept over her face. "Oh, that... it was just poetic imagery," she said simply. "I don't know why I said it instead of speaking plainly." Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes.

"What did it mean?" Steve asked patiently after Sydney didn't elaborate. He wondered if she had fallen asleep, but then he noticed her index finger tapping lightly in a measured rhythm on her arm.

She stopped and blinked a few times. Looking at him, she said,

"A long, long sleep, a famous sleep  
That makes no show for dawn  
By stretch of limb or stir of lid,  
An independent one.

Was ever idleness like this?_  
_Within a hut of stone  
To bask the centuries away  
Nor once look up for noon?" [13]

"Pretty," Steve said after it was obvious that she was finished.

"Emily Dickinson," Sydney elaborated absently, "an American poetess. My aunt's favorite." Her eyes watered again, but new tears failed to run down her cheeks this time.

"You thought you were dead," Steve said, his tone indicating neither a statement nor a question.

Sydney shook her head no. "I didn't think I was dead," she hesitated, "but I didn't think I was alive either. I had quite a bit of time to consider my situation." No longer interested in the conversation, she stared at her hands.

Fortunately, he didn't ask her to explain. Not that she would have.

"I'm going to go get a nurse," he said instead.

Sydney didn't acknowledge him, staring down with a blank and vacant expression. She heard him leave.

_Enough_, thought Sydney. She took another sip of water, a larger one this time. Adam's ale, pure water, was her strongest element and she could channel more energy from it than any other. She could focus on her pelagic magic better than anyone else she knew. The tap water wasn't pure, just enough so that she could feel it slowly restoring her energy, the magic's lambent ripples gracefully shimmering from her core. Each curling tendril grew stronger. It would take a while, but soon the water would make the healing almost palatable.

Beep.

_Damn it._

* * *

Early in the morning on the next day, the doctor came by to see her. The nurse on duty let her know an hour ago that he would make his rounds soon, so he was expected. He was a small, dark skinned man in his fifties with bored looking eyes. "Good morning, I'm Dr. Maalouf," he said, scrolling through something on his tablet computer. "How is the now-awake patient doing today?" he asked.

"The patient is still in bed and requesting an explanation. How is the dismissive doctor?" she said, the sarcasm sounding almost like pouting.

He looked up, amused with a new twinkle in his eyes. He smiled, "Quite right." He held out a hand, and she took it. Her bandages had been removed, but he either hadn't known her hands had been seriously burned or was trying not to look foolish at being misinformed. She was surprised that the slightly built man had such a firm grip. After shaking and exchanging a few pleasantries, he then leaned over to a dispenser on the wall next to her bed. An antiseptic smelling mist spraying out and coating his hands. He then disinfected them thoroughly with the hand sanitizer, wringing his hands in clipped thorough movements. If she hadn't been in a hospital, then she might have felt insulted. Instead, she appreciated the doctor's cleanliness. Perhaps he hadn't meant to be so rudely anti-social, just careful about asepsis.

"I'm glad your hands healed so quickly, and I think this is a good sign for the rest of your recovery. We need to run some more tests now that you're awake, but based on what we diagnosed while you were sleeping, I'm confident that in two or three days you'll be ready to stand and perhaps even support your own weight. Once we know that you can safely get out of bed, I'm going to arrange for a physical therapist to meet with you. As for any further explanation, you will have to wait for the director."

_Not bloody likely_, thought Sydney.

She turned back the top of the blanket and sheets on her bed, and then swung her bare legs off the edge of the mattress smoothly. The doctor gasped and blinked as she hopped down to the floor without wavering. The cold from floor seeped through her socks, and she rolled up and down a few times on the balls of her feet. She maneuvered her IV drip and stand around a side table, then walked towards were he was standing on the other side of her bed. There was no hesitation in her sure steps. She had walked confidently, like she owned the place. Belatedly, she used her other hand to close the indecently open back of her hospital gown.

Thinking this stance made her less formidable, she dropped the back of her gown and let go of the IV stand. Crossing her arms over her chest and squaring her shoulders, she stretched to her full height. Sydney raised her chin, and looked down to give the older man a pointed look. His eyes were wide and incredulous.

"I'm satisfied at present that I'm able to stand and support my own weight," she stated. "Wouldn't you agree, Dr. Maalouf?"

He might have nodded or his chin might have dropped slightly, Sydney wasn't sure which.

"Captain Rogers was here earlier and told me the same thing. However," she said waiving a hand about emphatically, "I'm no longer feeling patient, and I mean that in both senses of the word. Perhaps, we can arrange for me to go and see the director."

"I see, well... I believe I need to make a phone call," he said, shaking his head and typing a few things onto his tablet.

"Yes, please do. I would truly appreciate that," she smiled sweetly, jumping back up on the bed and swinging her feet hard enough for the socks to slouch around her ankles.

The once proud doctor then scurried out the room, stopping at the door to glance over his shoulder as if expecting to see her to do something else utterly impossible.

Sydney couldn't hold back grinning like a Cheshire cat at him and gave the doctor a little wave as he walked away.

* * *

§

* * *

Dr. Jane Foster stared at Thor from the conference call screen with a wistful look on her face, but fortunately ended the connection before Fury could roll his eye. He really didn't see what the big deal was; the astrophysicist would be there and see her alien boyfriend again when he, and his brother, used the Tesseract tomorrow to return to Asgard. Unless she dropped her project to go to Avenger Tower. Plus, for crying out loud, the two asshats would be back in a week.

Maria Hill nodded once more to Fury before severing her connection with him as well. They would need to speak again later, but not until after she received an updated medical report on the Bergström girl. She had supposedly woken up yesterday after only three days of being placed in an induced coma, which was unexpected... to say the very least.

Her being unfrozen _period _was unexpected.

Director Fury watched Loki as he left his office, following his brother. The so called god hadn't been in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody for two weeks before the incident with Sydney Bergström. He wasn't sorry to see the bastard leave, even if it was only for one week.

Even if he had, apparently, saved a girl's life.

Closing the reports on Loki's behavior from the previous meeting, Fury got ready to deal with his next headache. He had several decisions to make before Hill called back.

_Bergström, Sydney G. - Level 7 Access Only_. _Restricted sub-files - Level 9 Access Only_. He pulled all of her files up on his screen, but Fury already knew everything there. The attached photo was from her Colorado state driver's license. Her eyes were wide and she was leaning forward with her shoulders pulled back, like she was having a great time. He felt a twinge of regret, remembering the young girl he met briefly so many years ago.

Hesitating, Fury looked out of his window for a few moments before pulling up her aunt's file. _Bergström, Blanche D. - Level 7 Access Only_. The old woman was the bane of his existence all those years ago, and now she was back to haunt him. If Fury didn't know any better, he would have sworn that the photo from her file was glaring at him. Scowling, he turned to the outside window again and ran a hand absently over his bald head.

Below, Fury could see the two Asgardians were on the flight deck about to leave the helicarrier. Loki turned back, as Thor stood swinging Mjölnir above his head. Fury suspected that the trickster god had turned back to look directly at him. Thor grabbed Loki by the arm, who nodded. Lightning and thunder boomed from the clouds overhead, and then the two were gone. They would soon be on land; Fury had an unpleasant vision of a weeping Jane Foster. Sometimes, the brilliant woman was a force with which to be reckoned, but then others, like when Thor left without her to return to Asgard...

Enough of this grade school bullshit.

All excuses of procrastination gone, Fury turned back to the screens, intent getting back to work.

_Project S.I.R.E.N. - Level 8 Access Only_. Fury regarded the file on this screen with a soulful eye. He still believed in heroes. He still believed the world needed more of them.

* * *

§

* * *

Yesterday, Sydney had noticed the solitary stoic guard, who had been standing outside her room since before she woke up. Now there were three of them... Well, three that she _knew_ were out there. The additional men had arrived shortly after the doctor left.

The armed men gave a subtle yet distinct impression that she was not allowed to leave this room. Which she found increasingly annoying as her boredom grew.

Later that morning, Steve came back for a visit. "Hi," he said knocking on the open door.

She was so grateful to have someone visit and break the monotony, that she almost jumped out of the bed to hug him. Almost. She wanted to talk to someone, anyone really, but she wasn't desperate enough for attention to act like a loon. Yet. So after the briefest moment of maintaining a placid facade, she greeted him back, "Hello, Steve." She glanced at the paper sack in his hands, "What's in the bag?"

He grinned and started taking out several different soda cans, all chilled with condensation dripping down their aluminum sides. "I asked a friend what she ate and or drank back when she was a kid... I mean young... er... your age," he blushed. "She said that she was addicted to soda in high school. Well, Diet Coke is what Ms. Potts said, but I didn't want to assume that you were on a..."

Sydney had already snatched the Diet Coke and popped the tab, greedily guzzling down the carbonated beverage in huge gulps. He laughed and picked out a root beer for himself, his favorite. It was somewhat similar to the sarsaparilla Steve remembered from his childhood, but he drank it much more slowly than Sydney. She seemed to be in a race with herself.

After finishing the entire can, Sydney smiled with a satisfied sigh, careful to not let out the unladylike burp that rumbled in her belly. "I'm no longer in high school. I graduated years, as in years _before I was frozen_, ago," she said.

"Sorry, I didn't mean imply anything. Honest. Maybe you just look really young since you're in a hospital bed."

Sydney almost replied to clarify what she had meant, but then apparently changed her mind and closed her mouth firmly. She wasn't ready for _that_ discussion yet.

"Can I get you anything else, maybe more Diet Coke?" he asked politely with a small smile, reaching again for the paper sack he had set on the floor. So far, he was the only person who went out of his way to be nice to her. Under normal circumstances, she would develop a crush and gush like a teenage girl, which she actually was, when a cute guy came around to visit like this. Instead, he reminded Sydney of her grandfather or a grandfatherly older brother. A feeling that made sense once he had explained that he was frozen himself for almost 70 years. They were both fish out of time, hence his repeat visit to her room bearing gifts of soda and_... __holy halitosis_... was that a toothbrush?

He put the toothbrush and a travel-sized tube of paste next to the sodas. And then, bless him, dental floss. Captain Steve Rogers wasn't just a soldier and a gentleman, he was an absolute angel.

"Oh wow, thanks! Seriously, my teeth thank you down to their roots," great, _now_ she was gushing... over a frakin' toothbrush of all things. She smiled, forgoing the urge to immediately leave Steve standing there alone by himself and rush into the bathroom to clean her mouth. _Play nice, Sydney. __What had he been saying before she noticing the toothbrush... oh, right. _"Well, actually now that you mentioned it... could you please help me with that?" Sydney said pointing to the side table.

She had asked the nurse for a magazine, but the woman had come back hours later to briskly drop off a thin tablet computer. Similar, Sydney supposed, to what the doctor had been using. It sat unused next to her glass of water. Sydney scowled at it.

"It apparently has magazines and books to read, but the nurse didn't bother explaining how to use it."

He picked it up, noticing the apple-shaped logo on the back. "It's called an iPad," he said.

"She said that too, but the knowing the name still doesn't explain to me how it works," she said, neglecting to mention she was afraid of breaking it.

Steve nodded sympathetically, knowing too well the feeling of being lost when behind on the technology of the future. He showed her the iPad's Newsstand app and how to purchase magazines; the device came set up with sufficient credit to likely buy every magazine in the store. However, she was blocked with an annoying security restriction from purchasing quite a few of them. "Why on earth did they block _Beauty_?"[14] she asked, not expecting nor receiving an answer. She finally settled on a monthly travel publication that she recognized. Somewhat boring, but better than nothing. She put a pillow in her lap and carefully placed the tablet in the middle, so that it wouldn't get damaged now that she was finally using it.

"Listen," Steve said, "I came here for another reason." He waited patiently for her to look up from the iPad. "Director Fury wants to see you, this afternoon. The guards outside and I will escort you to him when you want to go."

_Thank the goddess_, thought Sydney. _I'm finally getting out of this room_. She tossed the iPad without a second thought back on the side table.

"Great, let's bounce! I'll just go brush my teeth... Oh, wait... First, can I get some actual clothes?" she asked looking down sheepishly at her hospital gown and socks. "And some shoes? Please."

* * *

§

* * *

[13] **_A long long sleep, a famous sleep_**** is another poem by Emily Dickinson. ****For many of us, our most famous day will be the one where we don't wake up. Bouquets of flowers will show up at your home. There will be sympathetic condolences posted on your spouse's Facebook wall. Friends will reminiscence about your collection of swan figurines and love of needlework. Co-workers will go to lunch to talk about nothing but you and how much you will be missed. The first line ****is a 'dead' giveaway as to the theme.**

[14]** Based in New York City, _Beauty Magazine_ featured articles about romance and beauty. The love goddess of the Olympian pantheon, Aphrodite Ourania (Venus), was editor of the magazine. While on Earth, she adopted the alias Vikki Starr, although everyone mostly referred to her as Venus. _I have a couple of spots on my outline that could be filled with Olympian characters, and I love mixing up the Marvel universes... Maybe you'll see them in later chapters, though this isn't a teaser on my part, as I haven't actually decided whether or not to do that yet._ :)**


	9. A woman with nothing to wear

**Author's Note  
**

**FYI, I have gone back to previous chapters and renamed my OC, Sydney. Her surname is now Bergström, not Bergman. ****Bergström** is derived from the Swedish words for "mountain" _berg_ and "stream" _ström_, whereas Bergman basically meant _mountain man_... so... um... no. 

**I'm persnickety like that.  
**

******Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of this chapter.** Nothing in the Marvel universe is mine. I also don't own anything else that you recognize.  


**~ Refictionista, August 15, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter VIII **§  
a woman with nothing to wear

* * *

The Tesseract, quite simply, was the doorknob to the gates that travel through space and time. Well, at least this was one of its many functions. It was, quite possibly, the most powerful jewel of Odin's treasure room of relics. As one of the six Infinity Stones, it had existed before the universe was even created and possessed unique capabilities that were enhanced and altered by various civilizations through the eons. To an observant human eye, the Tesseract appeared to be a four-dimensional hypercube; this is a four-dimensional analog of a cube, just as a three-dimensional cube is to a square. Mortals could occasionally see these brief glimpses beyond the three-dimensional aspects of the Tesseract; however, without true effort or real understanding, it usually appeared to humans as a simple blue cube which shimmered with electricity and glittering vapors.

About a millennia ago, the Asgardians lost the cube in the realm of Midgard during their war with the Jotuns. These battles may have cost Odin his right eye and the loss of the Tesseract, but at the time the Asgardians had prevented the Frost Giants' invasion throughout the Nine Realms. As such, these battles were proclaimed glorious victories, yet Odin and his warriors ceased visiting Earth afterwards. Why the All-father had not ordered his men to return and search all of Midgard until they found the lost Infinity Stone, Loki would never know. Equally unbeknownst to him was how it was then hidden by Odin's loyal Midgardian worshipers, only to be found centuries later in a box hidden inside a sculptured mural of the world tree, Yggdrasil, within a Viking ruin.

A powerful Midgardian horde, known as the Nazis of Axis, had made this discovery during World War II, and they had tried to use the power of the Tesseract to create weapons against all others on the planet. The ultimately successful attempt by an opposing group of mortals, known as the Allies, to stop this weapon had directly lead to Captain America's nearly 70 frozen years at the bottom of the Arctic Ocean. While searching for their lost comrade, the Tesseract was recovered by Howard Stark, father of the infuriating Tony Stark, the arrogant Man of Iron.

Many decades later, S.H.I.E.L.D., believing it to be a powerful energy source, recruited Professor Eric Selvig to study the cube. Loki had already known of Dr. Selvig before his involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Tesseract research, as he was the academic mentor of the waterish Dr. Jane Foster, the mortal love of his brother. As a matter of fact, it was Loki's subsequent observations of Drs. Selvig and Foster after their involvement with Thor, which led to Loki's, and subsequently Thanos', knowledge of the Tesseract.

Thor's lady was very beautiful, Loki would admit this. She was also very intelligent... for a human of course; Loki would disagree with anyone who said otherwise. So... Her allure and genius were never in question, and it wasn't even that Lady Jane became openly hostile in Loki's presence. Her animosity was perfectly reasonable considering his recent attempt to retrieve the Tesseract for Thanos and conquer her world. It was just that she _bored_ him. Lady Jane interested Loki in much the same way that a plain piece of toast didn't.

Loki hated boredom.

Taking more time than proper, Thor and Jane shared tearful goodbyes and overly prolonged kisses, for they would not see each other for a sennight. Seven days, a period of time mortals referred to as a week. _An apt homonym if ever there was one_, thought Loki.

When Loki had begun to question the meaning of his immortality and how, possibly for decades, he would have to endure this same scene every three weeks, his brother placed one last gentle kiss atop the hand of his beloved. He then wiped a tear from her cheek and backed away from her with the Tesseract in his hands.

Dr. Foster then began crying in the open arms of her buxom minion, a brash young woman with dark-rimmed glasses whose name escaped Loki's memory, if he ever knew it. Together, they began backing away from where the two princes now stood alone.

As he readied the cube for their journey, an unusually pensive Thor noticed Loki's look of weariness, "Did you truly feel you had to wait for too long while I bid my lady farewell, brother?"

"Relativity," said Loki.

"Though I recognize this word, relativity, your response is beyond my ken," Thor said, a deep vertical line of confusion formed between his eyebrows.

"Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."

"What wise counsel!" exclaimed Thor. "My lady speaks oft of the Theory of Relativity." He grinned, glancing back at the mortal woman. She had finally stopped sobbing and smiled back in return. "Your explanation brings fresh understanding to her Midgardian science; I shall have to remember that."

"She would be impressed, but not for reasons you might think. It is a well known saying from Midgard's most influential scientist on that very theory... Though that particular mortal is long dead," Loki added instinctively, as he couldn't pass on the opportunity to subtly remind Thor of the brevity of human life spans. Regretting the impulse to remind him of his lady's frailty, Loki gave Thor a rare indulgent look and quickly sought to change Thor's train of thought, "It is possible that she would be pleased that you can quote the forerunner in her field of study, but she would never believe you to be the originator of the saying."

"Regardless, I shall tell her of it and how my introduction to the wise man's words came from you," Thor said, motioning for Loki to place a hand on the other side of the Tesseract, while clasping Loki's other arm.

_Then she will know I compared her time with you to the placing of my hand on a hot stove_, thought Loki as the portal to Asgard opened and swallowed them both.

* * *

§

* * *

Sydney had showered. Really showered. She had needed three cycles of lather, rinse, repeat for her hair to feel clean once again. Though, even with her magic and all that shampooing and conditioning, it still didn't feel healthy. When she had first woken up, the strands of her previously silky blonde mane had instead felt like crisp, dry pieces of bleached straw. The warm honey blonde color replaced by a sickly pale shade. Even worse, it had a faint chemical smell and had also crackled when she first tried to brush it.

Discovering that had almost brought her to tears. Sydney Bergström wasn't a vain twit, like many of the vapid girls her age she remembered, but her hair had been her one physical feature that stood out from the rest. Pride wasn't a virtue, of course, but certainly people must be allowed to at least have a little bit of it. Because with just that little bit of pride, she had loved transforming herself by twisting and braiding intricate styles, most of the time merely for fun. In return, her carefully styled locks had given her such confidence, which was unfortunately a trait she felt compelled to fake now.

Every action, each snippet of body language since opening her eyes in this hospital room had been carefully constructed to give her the look of confidence. _Fake it until you make it_, her best friend had once said.

_Eriko_. Sydney wondered why she had the feeling she had recently seen or had been near the high-spirited petite girl. _No, not a girl_. Eriko had been a barely few years older than Sydney when together they rented the old charming house in the foothills near Denver. Sydney tilted her head and calculated; Eriko would be forty-one now, a middle-aged woman, not a girl. She wondered if that guy, _what was his name_, ever had the courage to ask Eriko out; goodness, they could even be married now. "Who would have been the maid of honor instead of me?" asked Sydney petulantly to the bar of soap in her hands.

Enough with the reminiscing. She had been goofing off and daydreaming for at least the last five minutes.

Realizing any more steam in the bathroom might soon transform it into a sauna; she stepped out of the shower stall. Sydney might have been tempted to stay under the hot water for much longer had she not remembered that she would finally be leaving this hospital room. She sincerely hoped to not come back here either.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she then took a rag and wiped down the foggy mirror.

And nearly screamed.

"Hello, poppet," said Aunt Blanche from the exact spot in the mirror where her reflection _should_ have been. Then with a tolerant sigh of a parent telling a child to go bed, she said, "Please put that down before you hurt yourself."

Sydney blinked. In her hand, she had drawn together moisture from steamy air, shaped and then froze it; she was now holding a rather lethal looking dagger made of ice.

She carefully placed the icicle blade in the sink and ran hot water out of the tap over it. _How had she done that so quickly, without thinking_?

"Aunt Blanche?" It was a question.

"No, not quite. My name is Bessie Dunlop." [15]

Sydney nodded, her face falling only slightly. "You're a familiar then?" she asked.

"I am. I have been with the women of your family for many, many generations. However, instead of endearing myself to one of your relatives after your aunt died, I chose instead to wait for you."

A warning bell rang in Sydney's mind, "How soon after my accident did she die?"

Her aunt's image hesitated and then said, "Thirty-six hours."

Perhaps it was because Sydney had already suspected something like this, no tears came. Her eyes didn't even water.

"If I am to be your familiar, will you accept my oath and pledge to serve and advise you?"

Sydney gave the reflection of her aunt one long last look. "Yes," she said.

The sweet loving face of Blanche Bergström shimmered like a heat wave and was replaced with Sydney's own in the mirror's reflection. Vile hair and all.

* * *

Back in her room, Sydney dressed in powder blue nurse's scrubs. She had been given a supportive cami, but wasn't wearing a bra. On her feet over the scratchy hospital socks were rubbery plastic clogs, and their ridiculously bright pink color would have clashed with anything. The nurse called the shoes _Crocs_, and they were hideous.

Even Grace Kelly couldn't have made them look good. This unfashionable outfit was likely what a patient in a mental hospital wore, and she briefly wondered if that was where she actually was.

A sad mop of brittle, nearly-platinum blonde locks hung limply next to her once softly rounded face. Sydney had wanted to pull it back, but worried about damaging her hair further. Her eyes were sunken and still sensitive to light, which made her squint most of the time. Her cheekbones now protruded so much she looked clownish, like someone wearing calaveras makeup to celebrate Dia de los Muertos.

Clowns dressed funny in a good way. This was not.

Something had to be done.

She ripped off the short sleeves of her top, tearing the fabric into strips and braiding them into a circlet. She used that to hold back her hair. She grabbed a black dry erase marker off the board near her door and went to work on the ugly clogs.

Sydney had almost finished coloring one of the shoes, when a lovely woman with strawberry blonde hair and a large smile knocked on the open door. She was tall and slim, wearing a grey dress that stopped just above her knees and her hair was draped back in a professional French twist. She had walked up with a smile on her face, followed by muscular man with almost no neck, who carried several large shopping bags.

The woman's smile fell. "My God, I knew it! They gave you absolutely nothing to wear," she said, staring with something close to a mild form of horror at the blackened shoe in Sydney's hands. The woman blinked and shook her head, "Oh, my manners. Hello. I'm Pepper Potts, a friend of Steve Rogers." She turned around, "Happy, please put the bags against the wall. Yes, right here. Thank you." The cheeky man gave Sydney a wink and left.

Sydney eyes widened as she tossed the shoe and hopped up, never having motioned to allow this woman in her room, but she didn't care. She gave the logos on the store bags a predatory look, "Sydney, Sydney Bergström. A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Potts. Please, please tell me you brought me decent clothes." It was hard to hide the hopeful pleading in her voice.

"Pepper," the woman insisted. "Yes, I called one of my personal shoppers and had her pick out some options for you. I was under the impression that you had gone through quite a lot, so I told her to find clothes easy to put on and comfortable enough for someone recovering from surgery," she said, noticing Sydney's lack of anything resembling injury. "I hope that's alright."

Sydney gave Pepper a grateful smile, "Anything would be better than scrubs and these... _shoes_."

"Crocs," Pepper said with a sneer. "We should burn them."

Sydney laughed.

"What _is_ that in your hair?"

"The sleeves of my shirt. I ripped them off tore them up to make something to hold my hair back."

Pepper muttered something under her breathe and then said, "I swear. If Steve hadn't mentioned to me, _in passing_ mind you, that he asked the nurses to get you some clothes..." Her voice trailed off as she crinkled her brows.

"How did you know what sizes to get me?" Sydney asked, trying to change the subject. The conversation felt like it was getting uncomfortably close to the lack, or perhaps merely the short list, of people looking out for her.

Pepper looked up smiling again, "I have my ways."

Pepper pulled out a lacy pink demi-bra and matching panties, "I'm afraid my shopper only got the one underwire. The rest are mainly stretch cotton bras, for comfort." She looked questioningly at Sydney, who considered the lessened pain in her ribcage and then took the offered pink undergarments after thinking a moment. Pepper gave an approving nod, and then grabbed an eggplant colored pencil shirt and a crisp white button down blouse, "Here. Try these." She took a shoe box out from one of the bags and starting removing the papers and protective wrappers from some two-tone flats.

Once dressed in conservative business attire, Sydney peeked at the bathroom mirror and thought she looked like shorter version of Pepper without heels. Not that Sydney was complaining, this was so much better than the Crocs-wearing, ripped-scrubs-garbed Rambo look-a-like she had been earlier. The reflection was hers alone; Bessie wasn't there to give an opinion.

Back in the room, Pepper stood with a couple of dresses and shirts over one arm and was going through a selection of accessories and jewelry. She looked up at Sydney and lifted the clothing she held, "That looks good on you. Would you like to try something else?"

"No, thank you. This is perfectly fine."

Pepper set down the unused garments. Then she picked up a turquoise statement necklace and matching earrings. "These would go perfectly with what you're wearing," she said, handing the pieces to Sydney.

Sydney nodded, accepting them. "Do you have anything to cover my hair? It's still a bit damaged, and I'd rather not pull it back in a ponytail."

Her new friend smiled and went to grab another bag. She came back with several scarves, a snood and a soft black beret.

They looked at the pile and then both went to grab the black beret together. Pepper laughed, "That was my choice, too." She helped Sydney loosely braid her fragile hair and tuck the end inside when Sydney put on the beret. Sydney thought looked almost normal. Her skin was too sensitive for any makeup, and so Pepper put the toiletries in the bathroom. Seeing the bag on the tiny counter made Sydney wonder if she was coming back to this room.

_Never mind, one step at a time_, thought Sydney. She looked human again, and the confidence that gave her meant that she wouldn't have to fake it that much more.

"Thank you, Pepper."

Pepper gave her a radiant smile. "You're welcome. I hope we see each other again sometime." All business, she took out her mobile phone, "I'll call Steve and let him know you're ready to go."

* * *

Without much conversation, Steve and Sydney rode in the back of a large black SUV through the streets of New York City, going to a nondescript looking office and warehouse building overlooking the Hudson River. When the vehicle came to a stop, an agent opened the door for Sydney. She hopped out, and Steve came around to join her.

Together, they went up the office steps and through a set of glass doors into what was a very small bland room with one large metal elevator. No lobby, no receptionist, no guard. Nothing but gray walls, cement floor and florescent lights.

"What is this place?" Sydney asked as Steve stepped up to the elevator.

"This is S.H.I.E.L.D. Central Campus," he paused. "Where we found you." He looked at critically at her, as if trying to measure her response.

She nodded and gave a shrug with one shoulder. Then Sydney felt something foreign, a strange sense of jamais vu. It wasn't the first time she'd had been in _this_ room with _this_ elevator ahead, but for whatever reason she couldn't remember it. This feeling, it was like meeting someone that you know you had met before, someone who had made a huge impact on your life, but who suddenly is a stranger. She felt scared for a second, like she was lost in a bad neighborhood. She looked around the room again.

"There's no elevator button," said Sydney.

"No need. The elevator will come once it is sent for us."

As if on cue, two sets of thick metal doors opened and the elevator was there for them. They stepped in, and Sydney again noticed the lack of buttons in the car. There was also no display or indication of the floors they passed either. Sydney sensed that they were traveling downward fast, so there must have been quite a few levels underground.

The doors opened to a utilitarian office. Guards lined the entrance area, but beyond that were cubicles and offices. They were met by an older woman impatiently tapping a stylus to the side of a tablet. She was no nonsense and almost severe-looking, with hard square glasses and hair pulled back in a tight bun.

"Sydney Bergström?" she asked, not waiting for a response. "Director Fury is no longer available to see you; however, I am to take you to meet with the deputy director, Commander Hill." She gave Steve a stern look, "Captain Rogers, you need to report..."

"I know," Steve said in a voice that would have, should have, made anyone cringe and look away. Sydney sure did. The older woman didn't even blink. He turned to Sydney, "I'll see you soon, kid."

"Sure," said Sydney, but Steve had already stepped back into the elevator. _Where was he going_? She turned to the woman next to her.

"This way," she clipped. "I'm Margaret, by the way. You're to let me know if you need anything."

Margaret showed Sydney to an empty conference room. She walked over to one wall, pressed a piece of glass which turned out to be some sort of touch screen, and a large video display emerged behind the paneling. _How very James Bond_, thought Sydney.

The monitor flickered on, and a logo appeared on the screen. It was the same eagle she had been seeing ever since she woke up with the name "Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division" encircling it.

Margaret then left the room. Alone, Sydney felt the unease from earlier seeping in around the edges of her mind. She decided to take one of the seats near the center of the table. She had just pulled it out, when the door opened again.

An athletic woman in her thirties or so wearing a jet black uniform strode into the conference room and held out her hand. "Hello, Miss Bergström. I'm Agent Hill. Our apologies for Director Fury not being able to make this briefing. Please, have a seat. We need to begin."

* * *

§

* * *

[15] **Bessie Dunlop was an actual _cunning woman_ accused of sorcery and witchcraft. She ****claimed to have a familiar named Tom Reid, a former barony officer who died at the Battle of Pinkie some 30 years before her.** She was a midwife with an understanding of medicinal herbs; however, as this was a time of witchcraft hysteria** in Scotland****, she was burnt at the stake in 1576. I thought it appropriate that she continue, as she had during her life, to help others in my story as a familiar herself.**


	10. Rage is a trickster

******Author's Note**

******Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of this chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

******~ Refictionista, August 21, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter IX **§  
rage is a trickster

* * *

The meeting did not go as Sydney expected.

She sat, staring vacantly at the now blank video screen, quietly wringing the hem of her lightly starched shirt in her hands underneath the conference table. It took her a while to realize Agent Hill was speaking to her, and the effort to turn her head towards the deputy director was practically insurmountable. At first she didn't hear anything, as she merely saw the woman's lips moving. Then there were thick noises that were probably words, as if she was hearing Agent Hill talking to her underwater. She was reminded of a fish's gills opening and closing from the other side of an aquarium's glass.

When Sydney focused enough through the ringing in her ears to make out that Agent Hill was saying her aunt's name amidst the other garbled words, she dropped the hem of her now wrinkled white shirt made the conscious and intentional decision to _fucking lose it_.

There was a pitcher of water and some glasses on a tray in the center of the table. Sydney swiped one of the tumblers and threw it as hard as she could against the wall next to the screen. The glass shattered wonderfully into broken shards, the jagged pieces scattering over the floor in pleasing random patterns. Sydney smirked at the dings, dents and scratches on the previously pristine paneling.

_That. Felt. Good_.

She grabbed two more glasses and hurled them both in the same direction, one right after the other. _Swoosh_._ Crash_..._ Swoosh_._ Crash_. The sound of their smashing against the wall was absolutely glorious. She reached for another glass, only to find that Agent Hill had pulled the tray out of reach and away from her.

The murderous look Sydney gave the woman must have been effective, because Agent Hill tolerantly took off one glass off the tray and pushed it with an index finger slowly back across the table to Sydney. Then the agent withdrew her hand.

Sydney reached for the glass, picking it up with every intention that it follow its siblings' fates... Only now her arm felt like it weighed a ton. The adrenaline that had been surging through her only seconds ago deflated to a pathetic sense of weariness when Sydney realized that the deputy director wasn't trying to stop her. _She's letting me throw a tantrum. I'm... I'm behaving like a child. _Sydney dropped the offered glass mindlessly, and it fell only an inch or so onto the table, rolling away towards Agent Hill as if trying to escape. Sydney's knees gave and she landed back in her chair with a loud thump.

Agent Hill picked the wayward glass up and filled it with water from the pitcher. This time, she walked around the table and handed the glass directly to Sydney. "Here. I'm told that water heals you," she urged.

That managed to reignite Sydney's ire. "There aren't enough cuss words in existence for me to use on you," she snapped, slapping the drink out of Hill's hand. It spilled out across the table.

"Easy now, Miss Bergström. Look I'm sorry about that little show back there, but we wanted to give you the big picture right away. We never thought it best to break it to you slowly."

"Break what? That the world has gone absolutely insane?" Horrified, Sydney felt tears forming and watering her eyes. _What Agent Hill just showed me_, thought Sydney, _what possible reason_...

"That we need you to become part of a bigger universe," said Hill. "We would like you to join a group of remarkable people to see if you can become something more. To see if you can work together when we need you to, to fight the battles that we never could. It is something we've wanted you to enlist in for a while, for almost twenty years."

Sydney looked up at her. She felt hollow again.

"Miss Bergström... Miss... Sydney, will you be okay?"

The forced politeness of Hill's tone only reinforced how far Sydney was from those who had once actually cared about _her_, not about what she could do. "Are you seriously trying to get me to join your world?" she whispered.

Deputy Hill looked at the young woman with indifference. "No," she said pointedly, "we're trying to save it."

* * *

§

* * *

_"What is it?" asked Sydney with wide eyes._

_"That, my dear, is one of the Apples of Eden," replied __Director Stoner._

___Inside, the __large metallic case_ was lined completely with dark molded plastic. In the center sat a rubbery indentation that held a small golden orb. The 'apple' was etched all over its surface with fractal lines and decorations. No runes or text, but the lines themselves looked to have meaning. The etchings also glowed with a faint neon blue tint.

___"As in Adam and Eve? And the __tree of knowledge of good and evil?_" said Sydney incredulously.

___Director Stoner chuckled, "No, not quite. At least, I don't think so." He gave her another infuriating wink and leaned back in his chair, straightening his ridiculous red tie. "This is merely a piece of ancient technology that we don't understand."_

_Agent Fury was still standing at the door when Director Stoner motioned the agent to come over to him. He hurriedly whispered into Agent Fury's ear, who then left the room._

___Sydney was still leaning forward over the table to look inside the case at the orb. Her fingers_ itched_ to touch it, but something held her back. She cocked her head to the side, wondering if she was imagining that she could hear it humming. __The sound could have sworn she was hearing was absolutely mesmerizing._

_There was an electric tingle in the air, one that Sydney felt was vaguely familiar. Something between the soothing healing of her aunt's pelagic magic and maybe one of Miss Dubois' stronger terrene spells. No, there was something different in this magic, like seeing a wolf in sheep's clothing. Trifling with a power like this would be a bad idea. A disastrously perilous idea. This was not to be touched. Her hand hovered above it, not making contact of course, just aching to be near it. The temptation was there and it was strong. Too strong.  
_

_"Tell me, do you prefer __Miss or Ms. Bergström?"_

___Sydney blinked. She dragged her eyes off of the orb, shoved the case out of her way and looked the director square in the eye. "_Dr.___Bergström," she deadpanned.  
_

_____Director Stoner frowned, "Excuse me?"_

_____"The use of the doctor title in my field of study is merely a question of etiquette and is subjective. I just passed my dissertation defense; this means there is nothing left but paperwork to get my doctorate. You asked what I preferred. My answer is that I prefer _Dr._______Bergström_."

_____He regarded her for nearly a whole minute before responding. "I see."_

_____The frown didn't leave his face. Sydney got the distinct impression that he wasn't pleased with the idea of calling a nineteen year old by the title doctor, which is exactly why she asked him to do so. The fact that she was female could only further irritate a good ol' boy like this. She may have a PhD, but the spark of mischievousness inherent in all young people didn't evaporate because of a few extra letters behind their name. The question now was would he give her the respect of an adult or continue to treat her like a child._

_____"You called it one of the Apples of Eden," she asked and he nodded. "Why? What_ is_ it? Are there more?_"

_"Young lady," _hmm... child it is then_, "like I said earlier, this is an unknown and ancient technology. My colleagues and I have got the feeling you know either how it works or how to figure out how it works, and you're going to show some us just that."_

_"And if I don't?"_

_"That isn't an option."_

_"Not an option? __You said I wasn't a prisoner, just that I was here to look at something. I've seen it, and now I think I should go."_

___"As long as you take a longer look at it to help my research team, then you are not a prisoner."_

___"So my two choices are incarceration or involuntary servitude? Have I been charged with a crime?"_

___"No, my dear, not at all," the jovial smile was back with a look of feigned shock. "Why on earth would you think such a terrible thing? You are merely one of the few talented individuals with your rare expertise. Please, that is hardly criminal. We simply view you as an expert and require your services."_

___"Odd. The Thirteenth Amendment makes involuntary servitude illegal, except as punishment for a crime. What part of _that___ doesn't fit this situation?" Sydney pushed back from the table, but found Agent Fury now directly behind her, blocking her from going any further.  
_

___"Smart girl. Legally, we are defining you as a material witness, and therefore we have the right to hold you for the moment." He motioned to Agent Fury, who took out a pair of handcuffs. Sydney tried to get up, but the agent was far too fast and strong for her. She was quickly handcuffed to a loop attached on the side of the table._

___"You can't do this!"_

___"I just did, Miss __________Bergström_." Director Stoner was no longer smiling. "I have had enough with your family, up to here_, and__ it is time I see some cooperation," he said gesturing then reaching into the metal case. He held up the orb and thrust it in front of Sydney's face, causing her to lean back. "You are going to help us figure out exactly what this is and what it does."_

___When Sydney realized he was placing the artifact on the table, she started struggling against the chains on her wrists. The panic closed in on her throat, making any speech or warnings come out in wordless cries. Agent Fury looked at her with curious eyes from under his dark curls, not understanding._

___Aluminum table. Steel handcuffs._

___Connected. She was connected. Sydney frantically yanked harder to free herself from the cuffs.  
_

___Oh Goddess, please save them.  
_

___Director Stoner looked between Sydney and Fury in exasperated confusion, and ____set the orb down._

Oh God.

* * *

§

* * *

Steve came by after Maria Hill had long been gone from the conference room. He had arrived with another man who stood at the doorway, hesitating.

"Hey, there. How's my girl?" Steve asked. Sydney looked over at him, but said nothing. "This is Dr. Bruce Banner," he said, gesturing to the other man. "Bruce, meet Sydney."

The doctor walked in and held out a hand. He was of medium build, with dark hair graying at the sides, and a kind smile. His movements seemed meek and somehow constrained. Sydney shook his hand mutely. "I read your dissertation years ago," he said. "Your work in cellular biology is still revolutionary and lead to several breakthroughs in my own research. It's truly an honor to meet you." The doctor smiled.

Sydney's ingrained manners took over, "Thank you. Pleasure to meet you as well, doctor. Dr. Banner? You were... mentioned... in the presentation I was just shown."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I take it that the deputy director gave you an overview of some of the recent events," he said. Sydney nodded. "Did she mention any of my research or the serum used on Steve?" he asked.

"Only that you conducted experiments in gamma radiation, attempting to recreate the super soldier serum. She said it didn't go well."

"No, it didn't."

"Did someone die?"

"Not... quite. It's a long story," Bruce sighed and pulled out a chair to sit down. "Several years ago, I was at government-owned chemical research facility in the Nevada. Top secret, very hush hush," he smiled at her and waggled an eyebrow for effect. "I was under the impression that we were working on radiation resistance for soldiers in combat situations," he sighed, "but that was a subterfuge to get me to work on the super soldier serum for the military. Not knowing all the facts and my own foolish haste lead to an accident in the lab."

"She gave me the impression that you were affected... drastically," she said, trying not to stare but unable to figure out what those changes possibly could be. His aura was split, but it was hard for Sydney to see the second one. _Is his extra aura hiding behind the first?_ she wondered. _If so, then what does that mean?_

The science of it was also mind-boggling to her. "The levels of gamma radiation from what I saw displayed should have been lethal. The ionization should have taken over the chemical reactions in your cells, irradiating them beyond repair. How are you still _you_?"

"Think of it as a Robert Louis Stevenson's _Strange Case_ split-personality thing brought about by sudden changes to my blood pressure and emotional state."

"You change," she said. It wasn't a question, but Bruce nodded. "So instead of Dr. Jekyll, it's Dr. Banner. Who then comes instead of Mr. Hyde?"

Bruce looked off to the side, debating what to say. "We call the other guy, the Hulk," Steve said softly. Bruce gave him a grateful look.

"The Hulk?"

"Yes," said Bruce. "Whenever I'm stressed, enraged or seriously injured, I transform into a nine foot tall... beast. Who is _green_, by the way. This other guy, the Hulk, possesses nearly unlimited strength, speed, and regenerative capabilities. He... smashes things." Bruce looked over to the shards of broken glass piled up against the far wall of the room and a corner of his lips curled upward.

Sydney followed Bruce's gaze. "Yeah, I had to smash things earlier," she said sheepishly. She frowned. "It kept me from doing something worse. I've always had... special abilities. I'm guessing you've heard that already, but they're different now because something has changed. Ever since I woke up I've felt something powerful and unfamiliar, and I don't know what that means. I threw the glasses across the room because I was afraid... I can't explain it, but I'm not sure of myself anymore because now I'm _scared_ of my abilities. I haven't had enough time to digest what has happened."

"You're among friends, Sydney," Steve said, gesturing to himself and Bruce. "There are several of us here who are special, just like you. So please, take a gander at..." Steve went to sit down at the other chair next to her, but then stood up quickly. "Golly! Why is this seat wet?"


	11. Racism cheapens the lives of us all

******Author's Note**

**Once again, I had to scour the Character Map to come up with something that our beloved fanfiction website would allow. What I had wanted is called a 'full block' character, which when typed looks like a big black rectangle. So when you see password-like _dots_, imagine that someone had taken a big black marker to that part of the story to _censor_ those words. Yes, dots were the best I could come up with to simulate a redacted document... I apologize for that.  
**

**Also, head's up: I'm going to change the name of this story. _The Prince and the Blue Stocking Beauty_ was always a working (i.e. temporary) title, and it was simply the first thing that popped into my head. I'll mention this again (and introduce the new name) right before I make the change in about two chapters.**

**Dialogue in both "_italics__ and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, September 5, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter X **§  
racism cheapens the lives of us all

* * *

Fully clothed in his well-worn armor, Loki collapsed face first on his bed at the newly christened Avenger Tower. He had been assigned quarters that were adjoining Thor's, but this was his first time in them. The pathetic Midgardian mattress flattened reprehensibly in protest of his nonhuman weight and it was almost too short for a god of his stature. He would have to ask Stark's disembodied entity that dwelled in the tower, _what was that spirit's name, __Jarvis?_, to procure him some bedding, some _proper_ bedding, that could hold up to his Asgardian body density and height.[16]

_No, not Asgardian... the body density of a half-sized Frost Giant of Jötunheimr_.

The thought was an unhappy reminder as usual, and Loki gratefully fell asleep within minutes. Unfortunately, it was a restless sleep with disturbing dreams, so he awoke not even two hours later, sweating and initially panicked at the unfamiliar surroundings. Rolling over and further damaging the springs on his mattress, he stared at the ceiling. For the first time since he was last in the Midgardian realm, he was alone to think and drown himself in his dark thoughts.

The solitude ended almost as quickly as Loki realized he had it.

"Brother!" Truthfully, Thor did not need to announce himself. A dead corpse could have heard the stomping in the hallway that passed for those footsteps.

_Good thing I am not overly fond of my thoughts at this time_, thought Loki, though he would never admit to Thor that he preferred his company to being on his own.

Loki stood up and created an illusion of a bored countenance to disguise the sunken look of his eyes. His splotchy and scratched armor gleamed as if just polished and not a strand of his dark hair was out of place. The rumbled sheets and lumpy bed was now neat and smoothly made.

He was as he wished to be seen, though this minor use of magic was more draining than it should be.

"Come," said Loki.

Thor opened the door with a serious look on his face and stepped inside. "I have come to see how you fare," he said slowly.

"I find your concern flattering, but unnecessary," Loki answered, his brows narrowing. "Unless you are here to inform me of the latest annoying task to redeem myself in the eyes of these pathetic humans, just leave me be."

"Brother..."

"I am _not_ your brother."

Thor exhaled and looked beyond Loki's shoulder. They both stood there silently for a moment until Thor turned back to look back at his... _adopted_ brother.

"Loki, you do yourself no service by calling the humans pathetic. This prejudice will only make your sentence here more unbearable; you should use this time here for repose."

"The possibility of relaxation for me here is a pathetic dream, just as the humans are pathetic."

"Bro... Loki, the humans..."

"Are the humans weaker than us?" Loki interrupted.

"Yes, but..."

"Are their lifespans shorter? Are they frail? Prone to needless wars?"

"Yes..."

"Are they far too overpopulated? Unable to sustain their citizens with the resources needed? Do they over-pollute and spew so much hiilidioksidi into their atmosphere that their world cannot keep up with the hiili conversion and storage? Speaking of the climate of this realm, are their ice caps melting? Sea levels rising? Will there be heat waves, record droughts, severe storms, and even mass extinctions in the next century?"[17]

"That has nothing..."

"It does. They ignore reality at their own peril because their lives are too short to care about the damage they do. No other realm would destroy themselves this way. The other realms are superior, by far."

"Just because we are superior does not make them pathetic."

The sound of a throat being cleared came from the open doorway. Thor, who now looked embarrassed, and Loki turned to see Bruce Banner standing in the hallway. Steve Rogers was behind him with an expression that was halfway between confused and strained.

"He's right," said Bruce without entering.

"Of course I, Thor, am correct," said the golden god, ever so arrogantly.

"No," said Bruce gesturing beyond him, "I meant Loki was right. I was also going to say you were wrong as well."

Now both Thor and Steve looked confused while Loki cautiously smirked at them all.

"Humans are pathetic," said Bruce. The two other Avengers inhaled sharply, and even Loki's eyes grew wide. He continued, "but that does not make you superior."

He then gestured to himself and Steve, "Beside the two of us and a small group of others, humans are physically weak. We are frail; just look at Tony, he can't survive without that arc reactor embedded in his chest. We don't live long enough to see the impact of our actions. Every reputable scientist agrees that there is an alarming upward trend in CO2 levels in our atmosphere. The average global temperature is rising and the next few generations are going to see some pretty devastating consequences for our environment. We fight senseless wars. For crying out loud, we believe in the concept mutually assured destruction. We _are_ pathetic."

"You may or may not believe me," said Loki, "but I meant no disrespect in pointing out your flaws. I see them as merely fact."

"I can accept that; however, flaws could be found on any individual or any race. No one race, under any circumstances, should be seen or thought of as being superior to another."

Loki turned to Thor, "_I_ didn't claim superiority over the human race, at least not a moment ago; however, I did claim that any other realm is superior to Midgard." Thor shifted uncomfortably. Loki continued, "I am a Jötunn, a Frost Giant from the realm of Jötunheimr. What you see before you is a powerful illusion created by Odin the All-father to make me appear Asgardian. You see, the Asgard believe that Frost Giants are monsters, worthy of extermination." Thor cringed. "For this, the truth of my birth was hidden from me. When I found out that I am the monster parents tell their children about at night, I would have killed their entire race in revenge for being one of them... all because I thought Asgardians were superior to the Jötunn. Later, I made your kind kneel before me because I thought I was superior to you. I have realized that I was behaving like an Asgardian, and the hypocrisy sickens me." Thor looked away. "I understand now the folly such ignorance, and sadly that particular lesson came to me at a dear cost."

Thor looked back at Loki. "I've changed," he said softly.

"So have I," said Loki.

"Change is good. I've seen what happens when evil men try to kill an entire race," said Steve solemnly. He shook his head as if to disperse unpleasant memories and then looked at Thor, "Did you tell him?"

"No, I had not the chance as of yet."

"What?" asked Loki.

Steve turned to Loki, "Banner and I spoke with the director. I encouraged him to include you a _few_ select missions. It took some convincing, but he agreed to this in a provisional capacity."

"You will be under my observation," said Thor, "and that of Bruce Banner." Fury had made it clear that the only one he felt could incapacitate Loki was the Hulk. Thor had bristled at the implication he could not... and the implication that such an action would be needed. "What say you?"

"I care not. I am either in a cage or working as a common laborer. The prospect of serving under your constant eye is no more enticing than either of those. As I have not a choice, I have no opinion."

"Fury has someone else with your talents joining us," encouraged Bruce.

Steve nodded, "You may find interesting to work with someone else who has... do we really have to call it _magic_?"

Bruce nodded in agreement. Thor watched Loki expectantly, who merely rolled his eyes.

_Humans with comparatively sparse talent in magic have never been equal to sorcerers of any other realm_, thought Loki. Talent like his took study and practice beyond their capability. In all his time spent in Midgard, he had never known of one, of the few wizen old men he had seen with any inkling of skill, who could command more than the most basic of parlor tricks. _Well... other than that one curious girl, perhaps._ He wasn't sure what to make of her.

* * *

Loki regarded the young woman sitting quietly at the other end of the table. She was young, at least young for a Midgardian, he judged. She might be dressed like a boy in those blue trousers that so many of her kind wore, but everything about her was feminine. The long and strangely pale hair she had arranged into a braid down her back. Though sunken and somewhat shallow in their sockets, her eyes were wide and bright, as if one could see them in the dark. They were rimmed with surprisingly long dark lashes. Most interesting of all, she had sorcery, powerful sorcery, in her eyes.

It was puzzling how a mere human could possibly possess so much magic. His level of talent and power in sorcery were the result years, _nay... __centuries_, of practice. Mortals simply did not live long enough to master such skill. A few of the more talented had been known to work together in covens to channel and combine their powers, but never anything close to resembling this. Loki was also quite sure that Sydney's aura was not the result of such external forces. _So what then_?

Curious, he probed the outer edges of her mind.

A decision that he regretted immediately.

The temperature in the room rapidly dropped and the ventilation crackled around them. The air was dry, and... _oh my_. There, suspended in the air scantly inches from his exposed neck, was unnaturally sharp icicle. The threatening point glistened under the glare of the florescent lights.

"You're right, my lady, you're right. I shouldn't have done that. I apologize," Loki said, holding up his hands. He knew he could use his own magic to eliminate the ice dagger, but elected not to do so.

She was looking at him with a cutthroat expression, the icicle not wavering. "_Niciodată fără permisiunea mea!_"[18]

"_I beg forgiveness, my lady!_"

"Nu fără permisiunea!"

Fury and Barton's hands flew down to their sidearms. Agent Romanoff already had hers out and aimed at Loki.

Dr. Banner looked back and forth over everyone at the table, not understanding the sudden rise in aggressive behavior from those around him. "Perhaps, we could all just calm down."

Agent Romanoff responded by flipping off her weapon's safety.

Dr. Bergström blinked at the sound, finally noticing the increased hostility around her. "Stop everyone. I'm so... Please excuse my behavior. I did not mean to startle any of you," she looked back at Loki, and the hovering icicle in front of him dropped to the table. It broke into pieces that scattered like a break after a powerful pool shot. She flinched at the sound, "I reacted rashly to... a private conversation that became loud."

"On my honor, it will not happen again," Loki said to both Dr. Bergström and Director Fury with respectful nods. His gaze stopped at Black Widow and the barrel of the gun she held still pointed at him.

Embarrassed and contrite, Dr. Bergström stood up from the table. "If you will please excuse me, for the rest of the morning... I... I think it would be best for me to leave and get some rest." She stumbled slightly after pushing her chair back and left the room without another word, red faced and with clinched fists. Agent Romanoff lowered her gun but never took her eyes off Loki.

Thor inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. "Brother, what did you do?"

"I didn't... Nothing much... I was looking at the wench without any exterior impediments. She was surprisingly aware of my actions and... most displeased."

Thor started rubbing his temples with his hands forcefully. Captain Rogers, the only Avenger who had previously treated green-eyed god with any respect, looked like he wanted to leap across the table and beat the crap out of Loki. Barton and Romanoff were glaring, first at Loki and then at Stark, who was smiling.

"Seriously, you were imagining her naked?" Dr. Banner asked Loki incredulously. "What are you, fourteen?"

Loki didn't respond, allowing those present at the table to form their own conclusions, which he enhanced with a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He made sure to show the smallest hint of shame in his eyes to complete the effect.

Stark coughed to get everyone's attention back on him. "Wait, no, no. She was _pissed_. Unless a woman is a crazy soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, they don't nearly stab a guy for just imagining someone without clothes. That kind of behavior is only found in the overly attached stalker chicks who later end up forcing you to take out multiple restraining orders against them. _I speak from experience_. Now, if you actually _could_ see through..." Stark trailed off, his eyes grew wide, and then he started laughing. "Oh, man!" He thumped the table with both hands, "That is a trick I _want_ to learn."

Loki carefully tugged at the other side of his mouth with reluctance, finally breaking into an evil grin.

"Shut up, all of you. _You_," Fury pointed at Loki and then the door, "get the fuck out."

"Agreed. It is time to take our leave, Loki," Thor stood with his arms crossed. Loki rolled his eyes while shrugging a shoulder, then slowly rose from his chair. The two Asgardians left the conference room, Fury's eye watching them with unveiled exasperation the entire time. The others could hear Thor asking what was wrong with him as the door closed behind them.

The director sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was about to regain control of the meeting when Stark asked, "Hey Red, how many languages did you speak? Do you know what 'no fair, my perm is new' means?"

Agent Romanoff rolled her eyes, "Six, and your Romanian is atrocious, not that mine is much better. But... Uh... _not without permission_." She turned to glare at door Loki had just left through.

Stark laughed again, wiping a tear from his eye. "Yep. That's pretty much what I thought."

Director Fury growled, or at least something very much like a growl. He shoved his chair back and stormed towards the exit, stopping to say, "Contrary to your belief, you people are not the center of my universe. I have bigger problems to deal with... so grow the fuck up!" He paused, "We'll reconvene after each of you agrees to behave like professionals. _Adults_." The door hissed shut, ending a muffled trail of obscenities could be heard down the hallway.

Captain America, Iron Man, the Hulk, the Black Widow and Hawkeye were left in the room.

"Adults," Stark huffed as he started to twirl in his chair. "So... never?" he said with a smirk. The other four at the table gave him incredulous looks. "Oh, come on! You were thinking the same thing."

* * *

§

* * *

TOP SECRET/SPECIAL ACCESS REQUIRED-SIRENFALL

STRATEGIC HOMELAND INTERVENTION ENFORCEMENT LOGISTICS DIVISION

SCI OPS R&D DEPARTMENT/LEVEL 8

0-8-4 Report No. D1995AE-_010_

[. Special Warning  
[. This document contains information exempt from mandatory disclosure under  
[. the Freedom of Information Act that may be protected by the National Security  
[. Act of 1959, as amended (50 United States Code §402 (note)). Reproduction  
[. or removal of pages is prohibited.

copy _11_ of 20 . created 24/10/95

TECHNICAL MEMORANDUM

Part A. EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

1. BACKGROUND: ●●●●● ●●●●● ●●●●● ●●● ●●●●, ●●●●●●●●●●● ●●●●●●●●●● ●●●●, ●●● ●● ●●●●●●● ●●●●●● ●●●●●●●●●● ●● ●●●●●●. ●● ●●●●●● ●●●●● ●●●●● an Apple of Eden, which has been designated D1995AE (referred hereafter as the 0-8-4). ●● ●●●● ● ●●●● ●●●●●, ●●●● ●●●●●● ●●●●●●●●●●●● ●●●●●●● ●●●●●●● ●●●● ●● ●●●●●●● ●● ●● ●●●●●●● ●●●●●●●●. ●●●● ●●● ●●●● ●●●● ● ●●●●●●●●●●●●● ●● ●●●●●●●●● ●●●●● ●●●● ●●●●●● ●●●●●● ●● ●●●●●● ●●●●●● ● ●●●●● ●●●●●.

2. SUMMARY OF FINDINGS: The 0-8-4 emits radiation of unknown composition, similar to that of ●●● ●● ●● ●●●●●●● ●●●●●●●●. Stabilizing this energy would like lead to numerous strategic applications. Fluctuations within 0.0102 μSv and other unknown abnormalities prevent further study. The levels recorded ●● ●●●●●● ●●●●●●●●●●●●, this radiation can damage DNA and injure tissue. At least two staffers were exposed to the unknown radiation with levels greater than 100,000 μSv (potentially increasing their risk of cancer). However, six other staffers working in equal proximity and with comparable levels of physical contact show no such symptoms. The two staffers affected are of similar ethnic origin, ●●●● ●● ●●●●●●● ●● ●● ●●●●●●●●, and both voiced personal concerns prior to physically handling the 0-8-4. The explanation for the concern was a psychosomatic inclination that preceded a mild case of ongoing tinnitus. Further details are available in Appendix 1C.

3. RECOMMENDATIONS: An operative qualified for Project S.I.R.E.N. should be dispatched immediately to access the unknown properties of the 0-8-4. A list of known candidates with sufficient talent is attached in Appendix 2B. No further action is advised until such an evaluation is made.  
Furthermore, ●●●●●● ●●●●●●●●●● ●● ●●●●●● ●● ●●●●●● ●●●●● ●●●●●.

Signed,  
Agent Anne Weaver, SCI OPS R&D  
Badge Number: RJQ 97T6231

LEVEL 8  
TS/SAR-SF

* * *

§

* * *

"Lady Sydney, it is I, Loki of Asgard," Loki said loudly at Sydney's door after knocking. "I have come to apologize." He knew she was there, but she didn't answer immediately.

When Loki was considering whether to knock again more persistently or leave, the door opened with an automatic hiss. Sydney's arms were crossed over her chest, and she blocked the entrance, but she wasn't being hostile. "You already did," she murmured, "you already apologized to me."

"Yes, but I spoke instinctively without thought or expressing true remorse. I wish to do so now, if you would permit." He tilted his head, "_We also need to talk, as you described, privately._"

The look of shock on her face was fleeting, but then she opened the door for him. "I see. Come in, please_._"

She noticed that he left the door wide open behind them. "_I take it that you think we are being watched_."

"_You, of that I am not so sure. Myself? Oh... most definitely, of that I have no doubt._"

They walked together the short distance to the small living area of her recently assigned quarters. Neither sat down.

Sydney shuttered her eyes and gave him a faint smile. "First, I want to apologize to you," she said. Loki wrinkled his brow in disbelief. Sydney held up a hand, "I know that I have you to thank for saving my life when I came out of stasis, yet during the first five minutes of the meeting this morning I reacted without thinking, threatening you with that... with the ice. Not only is that doubly inexcusable, but it isn't the first time I've had a shortage of tact since waking. I find my pattern in this unnerving, as have others. I am going to work on behaving less," she cringed, "barbaric."

"_Yes, I did see the previous destruction of that conference room. No, I saw this not by my force, as the memory was foremost in your mind when I touched it._" He cleared his throat, "No, m'lady. Your response was natural. I honestly did not expect to be discovered, and for that you are to be commended and I reprimanded_._ I should have known you would be aware of my actions; I knew of your magic when you woke. Indeed, that was the reason I felt compelled to save you. Still, how you were able to sense my intent is a testament to your grasp of sorcery, and as such I will treat you with respect from this point forward."

"So, you are not this considerate to all humans?" She narrowed her eyes.

"No, m'lady. I find you... interesting." He spread his hands in an open gesture, "_I sense great power in you, and this intrigues me. However, I am here, my main purpose in coming, is to advise you to keep this particular ability we are now utilizing to yourself. Also,_" he hesitated, "_I lead the others to believe I had angered you by using magic to view your body without clothing_."

Loki could see the moment Sydney realized what he said when her cheeks became flushed. "Why?" she said, both out loud and telepathically.

"That is a complicated answer. Regardless, I spoke the truth earlier. I will not violate your privacy again," he said. "_In the past, I have mentally controlled humans, and I did so with nefarious intent. That was not my objective in regards to you. I do not control others now, but I do reach out empathetically on occasion. I only use passive probing, as anything more would be cause for great concern amongst most humans should they find out. Though, and I hope this to be untrue, __I believe that you would be treated as much an enemy as I if your ability were to become known. So... I covered what I found by misdirecting to the others something quite unseemly._" He shrugged, "I suppose I could say that I was interested in your well-being and miraculous rate of recovery since your revival."

"_A lie._"

"_An omission. It is not a lie to keep the entire truth to oneself._"

She rolled her eyes, "I see why you are called the god of lies; however, your apology is accepted and I thank you for it. Consider yourself lucky, I am a woman who has faith that _everyone_ is worthy of forgiveness." She showed him back to the hall. As she was about to close the door, she touched his mind one last time. "_Wait. I'm curious about one thing._" Loki turned, his arms clasped behind his back, and raised an eyebrow at her. "_Can you really see through clothing?_"

"_You are only curious about one thing? I find that hard to believe._" Loki smiled and inclined his head, "Good night, Lady Sydney."

* * *

§

* * *

[16] **According to the comics, Asgardian body density is three times denser than that of normal human beings, contributing to their superhuman strength and weight. I'm going to assume the same is true for the Frost Giants, because Loki's weight is 525 pounds (according to the Marvel Comics Wiki).**

[17] _**Hiilidioksidi**_** is Finnish (according to Google Translate) for _carbon dioxide_, a colorless, odorless gas produced by burning carbon and organic compounds (which is associated with climate change). I just liked the foreign way that word sounded... Loki may have say "carbon dioxide" to a human, but I didn't see him using a non-Asgardian word when speaking with his brother... not that Finnish is Asgardian. Also, _hiili_ is Finnish for _carbon_. (If you want to understand the science of climate change that I'm trying to describe, I highly recommend watching Neil de Grasse Tyson's explanation in the 12th episode of _Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey_ to see him break it down into logical and easy to grasp chunks).  
**

[18] **_Niciodată fără permisiunea mea!_ is Romanian (according to Google Translate) for _Never again without my__ permission__!_ Any guesses to where I got the inspiration for that particular snippet of dialogue? LOL**


	12. Reality is merely an illusion

******Author's Note**

**Notice the new cover image? I'll have you know that I made that little masterpiece using Microsoft Word and MS Paint. That's right; I can rock it like a hurricane when I make do with what little I have.**

**I digress. The next time I update a chapter, you will officially see the new name of this story. ****_The Prince and the Blue Stocking _****_Beauty_**** will be changed to ****_Loki: Lover of Fidelity_ (there is a spoiler in that if you're shrewd enough to catch it)****. I hope this doesn't confuse anyone too much, but please forgive me if it does. I have given this quite some thought, and the new title is more appropriate by far. Given enough time, I hope you will all agree.**

**Dialogue in both "****_italics and quotations_****" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, September 10, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter XI **§  
reality is merely an illusion

* * *

So far, the second meeting was succeeding in almost every single way that the first one did not. Dr. Bergström hadn't yet threatened anyone with an ice dagger. The Black Widow and Hawkeye's firearms had remained holstered the entire time. Thor hadn't once needed to reprimand his brother for some misbehavior or another. Surprisingly, Loki didn't use his silver tongue to manipulate anyone... though he was quite certain they wouldn't have realized it had he chosen to do so. Director Fury kept his cool. As did Dr. Banner, whose growing evidence of anger management was proving to be more consistent and reliable than the director's. Stark was sarcastic, inattentive and puerile, but all of that was to be expected from him, obviously. And though the Iron Man wasn't the reason the last meeting ended abruptly, his behavior was the reason this second meeting ended early.

Fury had just finished his overview on the highly classified background of the 0-8-4, which stated at the beginning of the Project S.I.R.E.N. dossiers distributed to everyone that it was otherwise known as the Apple of Eden. Dr. Bergström hadn't looked up since he had described the explosion that resulted in her cryogenic suspension, not even when Captain America had given her forearm a reassuring pat. The gentle soldier sitting next to her suspected that she was fighting back tears, and he silently prayed that Fury's briefing would be over soon.

"... Which is why, when it disappeared, we were at a complete loss on how to get it back," finished the director. He leaned back in his chair with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest. "Any thoughts?"

Loki leaned forward before anyone else had a chance to speak, "I think humanity had no business dealing with the like of a power such as that and were you to possess any noteworthy level of intellect you would realize you shouldn't try to recover what you shouldn't have had in the first place."

"I'm interested in anyone _else's_ opinion," said Fury.

Without looking up, Agent Barton set his gun on the table... with the barrel pointing towards Loki. The subtle threat was seen by everyone and remarked on by none.

Dr. Banner turned from weapon to Loki and then back to Fury, "In all fairness, it sounds like the Bergström woman said almost the exact same thing."

"But why?" asked Agent Romanoff.

"A better question is _how_ she knew," said Stark. "Hello? Sydney?" He leaned forward and tapped the table with his pen to get Dr. Bergström's attention. She blinked and made eye contact with him. "How did your aunt know that it would be a bad idea to interact this particular 0-8-4? Scratch that, a very _very _bad idea."

Aware that everyone's eyes were on her, the young woman indulged in a fleeting impulse to disappear. She discarded the thought when she realized that she might _actually_ be able to make that happen. _Be careful what you wish for_, she thought.

"_Lady Sydney, does your past make you desire to vanish?_" asked Loki.

"_I do not want to discuss this right now, please get out of my head_." she replied.

"_As you wish_."

She sighed and realized everyone was still watching her expectantly. "We are... that is... she was..." She gave an involuntary shudder. Captain Rogers reached for her hand, which she squeezed back gratefully. "A-Aunt Blanch was a witch of the west. As am I."

She didn't explain further, leaving everyone even more confused.

"Huh," said Stark finally. "I'm gonna need a little more information than that, kiddo." When she still didn't respond, he barged ahead, "One, that little button nose of yours is anything but crooked. Plus, no warts. Two, you aren't green." He looked over at Banner, "Not that green is bad thing. I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster."

"Thanks," said Banner.

"No problem." Stark nodded and turned back to Bergström, "Three, and this is a complete guess on my part, sweetheart, but you seem more like a dog person, less of a flying monkeys kind of girl. Am I wrong?"

Hawkeye coughed in a manner that sounded suspiciously like he was covering up a snort of laughter.

"Warts? Monkeys?" said Thor crinkling his brow. "I do not understand."

Rogers dropped Bergström's hand and sat up straight in his chair to exclaim, "I do!"

Stark rolled his eyes, while Captain America smiled broadly to the others at the table, looking proud of himself. "I understood that reference."

"Before we get off topic, I just wanted to say, for the record, I will fully support any and all wicked behavior from this young woman."

"Tony!" snapped Romanoff.

"Okay, fine. You too, Natasha. I approve any and all of your wicked behavior as well. Especially if it involves Jello, even green Jello. Like I said, I don't have a problem with green. I'm an equal opportunity superhero."

Barton rotated the gun on the table so that the barrel was now pointed to Stark.

Director Fury stood up, "Congratulations to you this time, Mr. Stark. Once again, I find it necessary to prematurely adjourn our meeting before adding yet another potential charge to a very expensive sexual harassment lawsuit. Not that I really care. I'm hungry. It's past my dinner time. And I don't feel like dealing with any of you any further this evening. Dismissed."

"Sir..." said Barton.

"I'm already gone, Hawkeye," said the director before the doors closed behind him.

* * *

The entertaining area in the common rooms of the Avenger's headquarters had quite a spread for a light evening 'snack' by the time they arrived. Tiny cheese sliders with butter glazed buns and open faced cucumber sandwiches sprinkled with lemon pepper on crustless bread. Next to a Greek salad was a green pea pasta, the oiled carbs beckoning and sinful compared to the leafy greens. Texas-style brisket, smoked to perfection, and pulled pork served with bourbon BBQ sauce were oddly placed next to a fruit display and couple of takeout boxes of pepperoni pies from Di Fara Pizza in Brooklyn.

It was a hodgepodge of various tastes to satisfy the eclectic needs of this special group, all of whom burned more calories per day than Michael Phelps. It wasn't a surprise that _they_ had already eaten dinner. This was the 'meal' simply meant to get them through the rest of the night.

Thor was describing the food from his realm to Jane, whose rapt attention fueled his ego. "On Asgard, we customarily eat two meals each day. Náttmál is usually quite the feast each evening and tends to be festive, regardless if there is an occasion to celebrate or not," he said.

"What about breakfast? Or is it lunch? Is that held in the hall, too?"

"The first meal, dagmál is much like your breakfast. However, unlike náttmál, we usually eat... _privately_ in our chambers in the morning."[19] The suggestive look he gave Jane caused her to blush and giggle.

"They probably don't have Pop Tarts either," said Darcy. She leaned over to Sydney to mock whisper conspiratorially, "He may be all muscly and everything, but he can eat an entire box of Pop-Tarts and then _still_ be hungry enough to inhale your hidden stash of Milano cookies."

"Darcy. Please, let it go," chided a frowning Jane.

"Twelve Pop Tarts in a box, Jane. Twelve. And those were _my_ cookies... Pepperidge Farm ain't cheap. Maybe your princes..."

Pepper Potts interrupted, "J.A.R.V.I.S., please arrange for a bag of Milano cookies to be stocked at all times in Darcy's room while she is here in the tower."

"Will do, Miss Potts." The disembodied voice paused for a moment before saying, "Miss Lewis, is there a particular flavor you prefer?"

"Yes, please. Dark Chocolate. You know, like the kind the angels make in heaven."

"Certainly, Miss Lewis."

"Suh-weet," said Darcy as she raised both arms in victory. "Thank you, J.A.R.V.I.S."

"Thank you, Pepper," said Jane.

"Not a problem," said Pepper, who turned back to Tony.

"So," said Darcy to Sydney, "we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Darcy Lewis, sidekick to Dr. Foster over there. What crazy reason brings you here?"

"I was kidnapped by S.H.E.I.L.D., touched by a poisoned apple, blown up, frozen and then kept in a warehouse for eighteen years. Last month I was accidentally revived and now my hair is turning white and S.H.E.I.L.D. is keeping me under 'observation' by 'urging' me to work with them," Sydney gestured to the others. "Crazy enough?"

"Par for the course. What work do you do?"

The bubbly girl sitting next to her reminded Sydney of Eriko, so immediately she decided that she liked Darcy. She missed her best friend, talking about herself only seemed to bring that out more, but somehow Darcy made her smile. _Much like Eriko would have_.

"My doctorate was in cellular biology, but S.H.E.I.L.D. is more interested in my magic."

"Cool. I'm political science, but Jane's into physics... so I spend most of my time lugging around her mad science devices. Usual sidekick type gig."

"Astrophysics," clarified Jane to Sydney.

"Seriously? Like there's really that much of a difference." She turned to Sydney, "So, magic. Like Thor's 'science is magic' or bibbidi-bobbidi-boo?"

"Something like that," said Sydney.

"Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo?" asked Loki and Steve at the same time. They looked at each other then back at Darcy for an explanation, but she was already working on a mouthful of brisket.

"It is a spell used by an elderly fairy in Lady Jane's favorite Midgardian myth about a man who forgets what his true love looks like and later tries to find her using footwear," said Thor.

"That's... that's not how the story goes," said Jane.

"Verily, I could easily be mistaken. T'was quite early in the morning on Saturn's day when we watched it." Then Thor whispered something into Jane's ear, causing yet more giggling and blushing.

Steve had a feeling that whatever they were talking about would make him uncomfortable. "Sydney, just so I can understand... Being a witch of the west has nothing to do with being a wicked witch, right?" he asked. "I know it's a stupid question..."

"No, it's okay. There are no stupid questions," said Sydney. She took a deep breath, "I'm an elemental witch who practices mostly pelagic magic. I was my... my aunt's apprentice, and, like her, water is my strongest element. Elemental witches work in covens of four. Four classical elements. Four witches. Each element corresponds with a season and a compass point. Water corresponds with the west, and so we call ourselves witches of the west."

"Okay, that makes sense... I guess. Which season are you?" asked Steve.

"Winter," answered Loki for her. "_I am correct, am I not?_"

"Yes," said Sydney, "winter."

"What kind of wizard are you?" Darcy asked Loki.

"I am _not_ a wizard."

"Fine. _What element_ is your strongest?" Darcy asked testily.

"Asgardian magic is wholly unlike what is practiced here on Earth. What makes it work for me would not work for Lady Sydney, but the results are _or could be_ similar."

"Well then, how does it work for you?" asked Bruce.

"It's magic, duh," said Darcy waggling her fingers in the air.

"I'm talking about science, not magic," said Bruce.

"Well, 'magic's just science we don't understand yet.' Arthur C. Clarke," quoted Jane.

"Who wrote science-fiction," said Tony.

"A precursor to science fact!" quipped Jane.

"In some cases, yeah," he acknowledged.

"_I can see why your primitive cultures once worshiped us as deities_," said Loki to Sydney.

"_I am descended from those primitive cultures_," said Sydney.

"_Yes, and I still find it intriguing that you did_." Loki smiled; she reminded him how much it was possible to overcome his own beginnings.

"Brother, I believe our friends wish you to explain how in our realm science and magic are one and the same," said Thor.

"We are _not_ friends," said Clint. When no one said anything after an awkward silence, he got up and left the room. Natasha followed after him.

"Well, that was uncomfortable," said Darcy. "Not that I totally disagree with what he said about Mr. Tall, Dark and Terrifying."

"Darcy... just don't. Loki is sitting right there," said Steve.

"What? This _is_ polite-Darcy that's talking." She turned to Loki, "Do you think I was being mean? Because, and let's face it, even if I _was_, you kinda deserve something like that."

"The difference between something and nothing could be a matter of perception," said Loki.

"Shakey shakey what?"

Loki ignored Darcy and directed the conversation back to Bruce, "To answer the monster's original question, I'll first give a simple illustrative example." He paused, "I've heard an expression here on Earth, if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Is this question familiar to you?"

"You're talking about a philosophical thought experiment," said Bruce, who in turn had ignored Loki's monster comment.

"One that provokes discussion regarding observation and knowledge of reality," said Jane.

"Yes. I can 'vanish' into thin air," said Loki who then disappeared. Everyone gasped as three Loki illusions then appeared around the room. Bruce poked at the one next to him, his hand going right through that Loki, who looked tiredly down at the good doctor.

Loki reappeared back at his original spot on the couch, "When we look at the world around us, it seems to be really solid. It feels solid, but it is not." His cloned illusions faded.

"Magic is what isn't _solid_?" asked Steve with confusion.

"No, just in this particular example he saying that the solid world around us is merely an illusion," said Sydney.

"Ohhh... I get it! There is no spoon," whispered Darcy.

"Reality is always an illusion?" asked Steve, even more confused.

"Yes," said Loki. He gave the soldier a thoughtful look. "Are you aware of atoms? The different elements that make up your world." He looked over at Sydney, "I'm referring to your non-classical elements."

"Yes," said Steve indignantly.

"I meant no offense." Loki reached for a sugar packet and poured most of the granules out onto the table. He rubbed a few of the remaining ones between his fingers and then held his index finger out to Steve, "If one grain of sugar were equivalent to the nucleus of an atom, then it would take the entire floor of this building to make up the atom. In between the sugar and the balcony is absolutely nothing, it's empty."

"That isn't entirely true; there are forces at work between the spaces of..." Jane interrupted.

Loki cut her off, "What makes things feel solid is the repulsion of electrons on the outer shells of the atoms. If you did not feel this force, you could pass right through solid matter." He gestured towards Bruce.

"But there _is_ electrical revulsion between charged particles," said Bruce. He turned to Steve, Pepper and Darcy, the ones in the room who seemed confused, "An electron is surrounded by a quantum vacuum." He cupped his hands around two imaginary points, "Imagine that the electron of the atom is in a shroud, and the shrouds of different atoms can't pierce each other." He then bumped his two hands together.[20]

"Unless you had a particle accelerator like a large hadron collider to increase their kinetic energies," quipped Tony.

"Yes, but to do that the subatomic particles need to travel at 670 million miles per hour. Loki's fast, but is he 3 meters per second slower than the speed of light fast? If he could do that, then could alter any stable state of matter at any point in space time." asked Bruce.

"Finally, someone who speaks English," said Tony.

"Is that what just happened?" asked Steve.

"Wait. I have this," said Darcy. "When you vanish and go invisible, you're moving really fast and your atoms are in the same place as other atoms." She smiled at Jane, "You didn't think I was paying attention when you got all excited about the Higgs Boson last year. I still really don't know what that is, but I totally respect the fact that they discovered it." Darcy looked back at Loki, "Am I right?"

"Close enough," said Loki. She kept smiling until he said, "At least, that is likely the extent of what your simple mind would be able to grasp."

"_That wasn't very nice_," Sydney's mind said to Loki.

"Oh my apologies," said Loki to Darcy. "Did you think I was being mean?" He didn't glance over at Sydney, but she could feel his grin hovering in her thoughts like the ghostly smile of a Cheshire Cat.

* * *

§

* * *

[19] **The Vikings customarily ate two meals each day. The first, dagmál or "day-meal" was eaten in the morning, approximately two hours after the day's work was started (7 AM to 8 AM or so), while the second, náttmál or "night meal" was consumed at the end of the day's labor (7 PM to 8 PM or so). These times would vary seasonally, depending on the hours of daylight. Food for thought, LOL.**

[20] **Most of the dialog and descriptions from this scene come from episode 5 (What is Nothing?) from season 3 of _Through the Wormhole_. It's a hand waving science documentary narrated by Morgan Freeman. I realize this might be a little heavy (and I'm no physicist with any deep understanding of these concepts), so I'm ending the chapter here and on a light note. I hope I didn't push anyone too much or get my facts totally screwed up beyond all recognition.**


	13. The secret of a happy marriage is secret

******Author's Note**

**I hope that last chapter wasn't too far off on the science or overwhelming. I lost a couple of followers... That's happened before, which hasn't fazed me when it did, but the previous chapter was out of my comfort zone... so I'm being paranoid. That's okay though, because (one) my mind works best when I'm off my rocker. And (two), it was pointed out to me that if one of y'all out there knows enough theoretical physics to tell me how wrong I am, then that's _great_ because I would have a science buddy. So my tens of readers, feel free to point out the sciencey holes in my science fiction.  
**

**As anticipated, the story's title has officially been changed. I also renamed the chapters (by removing the chapter numbers). Plus, I went back and redid the numbers inside all the previous chapters at the headers with Roman numerals. I feel this will help with any confusion due to the fact that the first _chapter_ was actually a prologue. It also feeds my OCD.  
**

**********Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks.** Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.

**~ Refictionista, September 12, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter XII **§  
the secret of a happy marriage is a secret

* * *

Natasha shut the door to Clint's room behind her with a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Someone's back in their _happy_ place."

Darcy, Jane and Sydney were heading down the hallway that lead to the tower's living quarters, stopping when they saw the redheaded agent after turning the corner. Natasha dissolved into a blank yet stern expression. She repositioned her heels shoulder-width apart and her hands behind her back; it gave the impression that she stood at attention. It also made the other women uncomfortable.

"Okay, I'll shut up now," Darcy said. She nudged Jane as if to tell her '_say something_', but the astrophysicist merely nudged her back.

Sydney rolled her eyes, "We're glad we found you. We were heading to Darcy's room. Jane swiped some of Tony's good tequila," Jane smiled and held up the bottle, "and Darcy already stashed some rum there that she appropriated earlier. Would you care to join us?"

"Pepper is going to bring popcorn," said Jane sweetly.

Natasha said nothing, but she shrugged a shoulder and made an indication with her hand as if to say _lead the way_. Not entirely sociable, but it was a start.

They went into Darcy's tiny room while Sydney went down the hall to her own, coming back with cushions from her sofa. She gave one to Natasha, and the two of them settled themselves on the floor across from Darcy's tiny loveseat. Pepper came in wheeling a desk chair laden with shot glasses, wine flutes, popcorn, a couple two-liters of soda, and some bottles of Merlot and vodka; she put everything out on the coffee table and settled into the now empty chair.

"What did I miss?" asked Pepper.

"Natasha, would you care to share anything with the group?" asked Darcy.

Natasha exhaled and grabbed the bottle of vodka and one of the shot glasses. Then she leaned forward again to put the shot glass back, but kept the bottle.

"She didn't mean anything by that," said Jane.

"Yes, I did. No regrets," said Darcy. Jane gave her a look. "What? Her archer man is _gorgeous_."

Natasha ignored Darcy and fiddled with her arrow necklace, and then she took another swig from the vodka bottle. Darcy shrugged and filled two shot glasses with tequila and handed one to Sydney. Natasha paused from drinking long enough to raise an eyebrow, "Are you two old enough to drink?"

"I might have turned 21 a couple of months ago," Darcy half mumbled evasively.

"I'm 36," said Sydney after she downed her shot. Natasha turned her raised eyebrow to Sydney. "I am," she huffed, "I _was_ born in 1978."

"Well, I think you look amazing," said Pepper.

"Thanks."

"For your age, that is," snickered Darcy in a good-humored kind of way.

"You have _no_ idea," replied Sydney. "Looking back, sometimes it felt like only a few moments, but while I was... sleeping... more like a thousand years passed."

"Dude, then you are in _damn_ good shape."

Natasha then offered to pour some vodka in Sydney's glass, which she accepted. She clinked her bottle with Sydney's glass, "Budem zdorovy!"[21]

* * *

Jane left early on to join Thor for the evening. Pepper stated she didn't need to go anywhere, as Tony would likely be tinkering in his lab for most of the night. Natasha had divulged that while she and Clint might enjoy incredibly vigorous sex together, they didn't usually _sleep_ together... so she wasn't going anywhere either. The rest of the evening was a symphony of laughter and drinking, aided by the music provided from Darcy's iPod.

"Oh my," said Pepper as her eyes watered, "this came from under Tony's bar? What is this stuff?"

"I'm guessing the alcoholic equivalent of a mugging, expensive and bad for your head," said Sydney in slurred speech. She was curled up on Darcy's bed.

"I'm guessing that would describe almost everything in his liquor cabinet," said Natasha. She seemed the least affected of the group, despite the fact that she had been drinking more than the rest of them combined. She was Russian after all, or at least used to be.

Darcy grabbed the bottle, "It says..." She blinked, "Damn, I can't read good no more. Who cares? This shit's da' bomb." She looked over towards her bed, "Hey, Sydney. How ya' doing girl? You okay? If you feel like pukin', then remember to aim your face _away_ from my pillow."

"I'm fine, Eriko" came Sydney's muffled voice from face down on the bed.

"Dude. That is the second time you called me that tonight. Who's Eriko?"

"Sorry, a really good friend of mine," said Sydney sleepily. "I'm not thinking straight, and you remind me of her."

"Cool," said Darcy. Her eyes widened, "OMG, speaking of _friends_... Do you guys want to hear a secret?"

Pepper coughed delicately. "I think I'll just call it a night now," she said. "You can tell other people's secrets after I'm gone."

"Party pooper!" said Darcy as Pepper got up and started pushing the chair across the room.

"Plausible deniability," said Pepper as she shut the door behind her.

Darcy frowned, but then turned to Natasha with a bright smile, "I'll bet the kickass spy in the room would want to hear my secret."

"Of course, go ahead."

"Guess the names of the two crazy kids who are going to have a wedding. Ding ding ding. I'll give you a clue, one of them is planning on going to Asgard to marry her boyfriend/fiancé... who _literally_ has the body of a sexy god... he just has to ask his dad for permission first."

"Permission?" Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Princes have to ask their dads for permission before they get married. It's a king thing." Darcy laughed, "That rhymed!"

"When is all this going to happen?" asked Natasha conversationally. Veiled interest disguised the agent's predisposition to treat friends as assets; it was a habit that was hard to break.

"Next week, when Thor goes to Asgard with Loki; he's going to get Odin's consent then. Then they come back. Then on their _next _trip, Jane is going with them. OMG. And guess what? I'm going too. I'm going to be in the bridal party, whoooo!" Darcy reached over across the arm of the loveseat and shook Sydney's leg, "Hey, witchy woman! Isn't that awesome?" She shook the limp appendage harder, "I'm talking to you, lightweight!"

No response.

"Crap. I think she passed out."

"Come on," said Natasha standing up and stretching slowly with feline grace like a panther. "I'll help you get her to her room."

* * *

§

* * *

_"Why? Does she have a problem with you bringing me over to spend the night?" _

_The masculine whisper, if it could be called that, was too deep _not_ to hear. Sydney wished he realized whispering wasn't the problem. If Eriko_ _had wanted not to wake her up, then they shouldn't have made_ _so much freaking noise in the kitchen earlier. Her room was directly above it._

_She could_ _hear_ everything_ through the vents._

I'm going to leave a note for Eriko to wipe down the table, _thought Sydney, getting out of bed to find a notepad and pen from her desk. Passive aggression wasn't her thing. __She usually had more charitable thoughts, plus Eriko was rarely inconsiderate. But... seriously... no one was that good for that_ _long_. I'm going to make you regret faking it, _she mused._

_"Shhh... No, I told you. She's going to defend her thesis later this week. I don't want to wake her."_

_There was the sound of someone stumbling on the stairs._

_"Too late," said Sydney after deciding to open the door to her bedroom. She crossed her arms over her chest._

_"Oh, god. Sydney, I'm so sorry. We've been drinking, and I totally know that isn't a good excuse. I'm sorry. Shogo just finished his latest rotation, and we were celebrating." She blinked and hiccupped, realizing something. "Oh, right. Sydney Bergström, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend Shogo Lee. Shogo, this is my roommate Sydney._[22]

_"Charmed, I'm sure," said Sydney. She looked and sounded anything but charmed._

_"The genius best friend," he said with radiant smile. "I've been looking forward to meeting you." He didn't hold out a hand to Sydney, but that was understandable as he was currently doing his best to keep Eriko upright and vertical. Shogo was cute, in a short yet gangly sort of way. Sydney could admit that. Eriko had told her all about Shogo, and had repeatedly mentioned how she was falling head over heels for him. That is... If you could fall for a guy over hurried lunches in a cafeteria while he slaved away in med school. __Eriko worked in one of the hospital's administrative offices, and had helped him out with directions when she noticed he was lost. It turned out later that he had faked asking for help, just so he could treat her to lunch as a thank you._

_Okay, fine. He might _possibly_ be charming._

_"I asked Eriko to invite you come out with us, but she said that wouldn't come."_

_"I just turned nineteen, so I couldn't even get into any of the bars with you. Plus, and possibly more importantly, I don't drink."_

_"You're only nineteen?" His eyes widened, "And you're already getting your PhD?"_

_"She's freaky brain smart and a-ma-zing!" Eriko giggled, "I love you, Sydney!" She threw herself across the hallway to give Sydney a hug._

_"I'd better get her to bed," said Shogo, carefully extracting his drunken girlfriend's arms and holding her up once again._

_"Do that," said Sydney._

_"Sorry for waking you up. Eriko and I will make it up to you, we promise. I'll make a coffee and doughnut run in the morning."_

_"Thanks, I'd appreciate that. Just keep it down, please. I really do need to have as much sleep as possible, at least right now."_

_"I know. We will, thanks for understanding."_

_Sydney could see why Eriko wanted to marry this guy._

* * *

§

* * *

Instead of being on a high floor of the Triskelion or the Avenger Tower, or even on one of the helicarriers, Nick Fury's main office as director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was underground, in one of the lower bunker levels of Central Campus in New York City. It didn't have a nice view. Actually, there wasn't a view at all. It was a windowless room, heavily guarded and behind reinforced doors with walls of concrete several feet thick.

It gave off the impression that the director had trust issues, which was fine with Agent Natasha Romanoff. She liked to protect herself, too.

Agent Romanoff had just finished her account of the conversation she had with Miss Lewis during 'ladies night' the previous evening.

"On Asgard?" asked Director Fury.

"That is what the girl said," said Romanoff. "Though, she gave the impression it wasn't yet a done deal."

Commander Maria Hill spoke up, "He's a god; it's a done deal."

"I don't think Thor's technically a _God_," said Agent Barton.

"Well, you haven't been near his arms," the commander scoffed.

Fury cleared his throat and regained Romanoff's attention, "What kind of intel on their planet do you think you would be able to pull from her afterwards?"

"My guess is that I can shape her to observe quite a lot while she is there."

"Without her knowing?" the director asked.

"Of course."

"Why not Dr. Foster?" asked Barton. "If her assistant is only there as a bridesmaid..."

"Maid of Honor," Romanoff interrupted.

"Whatever," he said, "Her access would likely be more limited. Shouldn't our motivation go to the more valuable source?"

Hill shook her head, "Dr. Foster is risky to use as a rabbit. She is far too devoted to Thor to be turned, and too perceptive to be shaped into an asset without realizing our intention." Hill looked to Fury to see if he concurred.

He narrowed his eye and leaned back, "Agreed."

"We'll do what needs to be done," said Romanoff. Barton nodded.

"I know you will."

It was the closest that Fury ever came to outright praising the agents. The debriefing was adjourned without another word.

* * *

§

* * *

[21] _**Budem zdorovy! **_**(****Будем здоровы!) is Russian (according to Omniglot dot com's webpage on Useful Russian Phrases) for _Cheers!_ Though technically, it is translated as _Let's stay healthy!_**

[22] **In the X-Men comics, Shogo Lee was the name of Jubilee's adoptive son. Let's pretend that future Jubilee (because she won't ever be more than a teenager in my story) will name him after her dad. Just a sweet little treat for y'all to munch on... yet another Easter Egg in my story for the win!  
**


	14. Keep calm and fix your hair

******Author's Note**

****** Finally****! It is time for me to start teasing you with the upcoming conflict. I need to lay down little more groundwork before the actual call to adventure, but we are almost there. Darn you Romance/Adventure genre... you are so frakin' difficult to balance (I say this shaking my fist towards the heavens). **

**********So... Please be patient my dearly cherished tens of readers, and remember that this is my first story _ever_ and that I'm trying to do it right _for you_. Villains and action are coming, I promise.  
**

**********Dialogue in both "****_italics and quotations_****" denote telepathic conversations.** Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.

******~ Refictionista, September 16, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter XIII **§  
keep calm and fix your hair

* * *

The next morning, Sydney found herself in the kitchen hunting down tomato juice, cayenne pepper, sugar, and a lime.[23] Then she took her concoction out to the balcony along with some soda crackers. This was her first hangover, but she had witnessed Eriko's preferred morning after routine enough times to know what to do.

Part of her, a _small_ part, was angry for allowing herself to disappear through drinking.

That's really all she did, disappear. She wasn't one to drink and let loose. She didn't use inebriation for fun, never had. She didn't like altering her mind, period. Until Darcy had invited to her for some drinks in her room, that is. Except she didn't let loose or have much fun. Oh, she laughed at the stories and jokes, it wasn't as if she had a bad time. Sydney didn't do anything she would be embarrassed about, except maybe passing out, though she only vaguely remembered Darcy and Natasha helping her back into her own bed.

It was just that she used shot after shot of liquor to make her mind disappear.

That was pathetic, really.

Weak.

But that was just a small part of her mind saying these things. Most of her just shrugged and said _fuck it_.

So here she was, on the balcony of the headquarters to a group of strangers that she had been thrust upon to join, drinking Eriko's tomato juice cure without a straw and practicing her _fuck-it-fu_ without a mat.

Well, technically it was _yoga_... she just hadn't reached any form of mental clarity yet.

Once she had finished all the twisting and poses, Sydney seated herself on one of the balcony's chairs to finish drinking her funky beverage and nibble on the rest of the saltines... and to watch the sunrise. The sky and the reflections on the glass of the nearby buildings was blood red. Brilliant orange light was pouring out from between the crack of two skyscrapers in the east. The rippled clouds were every shade of pink imaginable. _There it was_. Peace. Clarity. Hope. Sydney smiled.

"Do you find this breathtaking?"

Sydney turned to see Loki had stepped out onto the balcony. His vacant expression at the view in the distance could have been easily dismissed, but she saw something she recognized in herself. _He looks homesick_. She smiled, this time at him. "Do you have sunrises like this on Asgard?" she asked.

"No." It was a curt reply, harsh, almost sounding like he had tried to bite her while saying it. "Your planet is spherical. Asgard is not. Thus, our days and nights are quite different and _far_ more beautiful. Were you to ever see it, you would realize this 'beauty' we see now is grey and pale by comparison."

"Your planet isn't _round_?"

He turned away from the sunrise to her, with a look of bewilderment. "I insult your world's pathetic attempt at grandeur and instead you focus on that sentence?"

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder... a non-spherical planet is, well, _not_ round like a planet. I find _that_ far more interesting, so of course I focus on _that_." She paused, "Thinking back, I've heard you and Thor refer to Asgard as a realm or a world, but never _as a planet_. What is it then?"

"The home of the gods," he said turning away from her.

"How enlightening," she quipped. "Whatever. Hopefully, I'll find out more from Jane and Darcy when they come back." Sydney gasped and put a hand in front of her mouth, closing her eyes and cursing herself after she realized that perhaps she wasn't meant to share that information. Darcy did say it was a secret.

Loki rolled his eyes, "My brother's supposed betrothal? Fear not, you have revealed nothing. I already knew of it."

_Ouch_. "Supposed?"

He huffed, "They are not suited to each other."

"Wow. You're really not much of a morning person, are you?"

Loki laughed at that, "No. I am not, as you say, a morning person. Though, I rise earlier each day than most others I know. You are?"

"No, but I try."

"To rise early or be a morning person?"

"Both, actually."

"I see." He took his gaze off the sunrise again and scrutinized her more closely, "Why have you not yet rectified the state of your hair?"

"I _beg_ your pardon." Sydney squared her shoulders and put a hand to cover her damaged and brittle mane. It crunched where she had pressed down on it. She cringed.

"You have access here, in this building, in this city, to any number of beautifying balms the women of this realm use. Perhaps none of those worked, but that then provokes the question as to why you haven't tried using magic to fix that... _wreckage_."

Sydney gaze narrowed into glaring slits, "When I said, 'I beg your pardon,' it meant that you were being exceptionally rude."

"I gathered that from your tone."

"Yet you didn't apologize."

"I am Loki of Asgard," he said with a shrug as if that explained everything. "I don't apologize. I am here to pay a debt to your world, which I am willing, however grudgingly, to do. Despite this however, I am not sorry for what I did. I am a villain. The reality is that simple." He gave her an almost sympathetic look, "And I am not sorry for inquiring about your hair. If you are sensitive about it, then perhaps you should have covered it up to soothe any insecurity. Was it always so dull and colorless?"

Sydney rubbed her forehead, feeling her headache returning. It wasn't worth the effort to reason with him on this; she could just get up and leave, but her vanity needed to be squelched once and for all. Hard to believe it, but he was actually doing her a favor. "No," she sighed. "It turned white and straw-like somehow during my time in hibernation. I'm afraid it has only been getting worse ever since. I've tried every cream and serum Pepper has given me. And yes, I've tried magic. _Repeatedly_. Nothing has worked."

"I see. I could help you with that, if you would like."

"Seriously? You just spouted nothing but verbal diarrhea in my direction since you walked out here. Why would you?" The man had insulted both a beautiful sunrise and her hair in less than fifteen minutes, offering to help fix her stupidly injured vanity made no sense.

"This... look," he grimaced with disgust, "it does not become you."

Sydney, with her mouth hanging wide open, was trying to figure out how to respond to that when Steve popped outside.

"Hey, there! I've been looking for you," he said with a grin.

_Oh, thank the goddess_, she thought. "Good morning, Capt'n."

"I'm glad I found you. I ordered something for you in the mail, and it arrived first thing. Wait here." He held up a finger motioning her to wait and popped back inside.

"_Why do you encourage that man?_"

Sydney gave Loki a look of pure exasperation; she had nearly reached her limit with the asshole god this morning. "_Because he is very nice, and I_ do_ like him__._"

"_Only as a child __likes a playmate._"

"_He's my friend!_" Sydney stood up to face Loki, but ending up facing Steve instead. Loki had vanished. Sydney felt his presence though, he was merely invisible.

"Here it is," Steve said, handing her a brown paper wrapped parcel. He had a grin with dimples, and his teeth were perfect; however, Sydney realized that nothing about the flawless smile he directed at her gave her any joy. Well, not the butterflies-in-her-stomach making her feel-more-alive-kind of joy. _Shit, shit, double shit. Loki is _not_ right. Steve is a sweet guy; anyone would love to be with him._

She smiled sweetly at Steve and opened the box. Inside were red ballet flats.

Sparkly red sequined ballet flats.

With glittery red bows.

_Oh no, he didn't..._

"Ruby slippers," Steve exclaimed. "Just like from the Wizard of Oz. Do you like them?"

He bought and ordered replica ruby slippers for her. She held them up, mentally flinching at how the gaudy sequins were dazzling in the morning light. The _wicked_ witch's shoes. If anything could resolve Sydney's reservations about trying to think of Steve with affection more than that of a doting sister, then this was it. These were practically birth control shoes. She could tell that Steve was waiting eagerly for her response.

_Shit, think of something_, her mind raced. After two seconds passed that felt more like two years, her panic faded. She realized exactly what she needed to say. "You're so sweet, thank you," she shook Steve's hand. "You are such a good friend. I'm so glad we met; I had always wished to have a brother like you."

His face fell, but only slightly.

_Screw it._ _Loki was right_, she thought. What made that worse was that Sydney knew he had just seen everything.

"_Not a word, Loki_. _Not. A. Word._"

She could almost hear him laughing outside the edges of her mind.

* * *

The dark presence had been worried, trembling at the thought of its discovery. For only _after_ the powerful sorcerer had come out onto the balcony, did it realize its dreadful mistake. Its hiding place, the witch's shadow, was pointed _towards_ the rising sun. The wraith knew it could not move to correct its position. It could not even fade away without detection. It had to wait and hope to go unseen.

It sat, paralyzed, disgusted at its own terror. Patience was not a virtue it possessed, and fury burned within it. The cold rage hissed and grew stronger through its spectral form as it cowered in the shade of the woman's body. Every additional moment it was forced to hide, each second it could not flee, its anger grew stronger. It cursed its folly. They would pay for this.

The more time passed, the stronger the possibility of discovery grew. Just as it felt the dark haired sorcerer had begun to scrutinize the white haired witch more closely, its fears reaching their zenith, the soldier had joined them outside.

This broke the sorcerer's concentration. The cold specter hesitated, questioning if it should take this opportunity to go or not. It watched the sorcerer and the witch argue with unspoken words. This was possibly its only chance. Finally, it jumped from the witch's shadow to dissolve itself in the morning fog.

Too late. No, too soon.

The sorcerer instantly realized what had happened, and the specter's terror returned as it watched him instantly vanish. The dark presence knew the sorcerer had shed his corporeal form to search for the unknown presence he had felt. How foolish to presume it could have possibly outfoxed the god of mischief and lies. It could sense the cold heat as could only be felt from Frost Giant from Jötunheimr as the god's tendrils of magic probed the area, searching.

It knew that he knew it had been there.

Watching them.

Watching _her_.

What had the fallen son of Asgard sensed? What did he know?

Did he figure out what it was?

Did he realize _who_ it was? Worse, who had sent it?

Would he share what he had felt with the woman? It shuddered at the thought. Even worse, would those two discover anything if they worked together? Of all of this realm's heroes, these two trained in magic were the most troublesome. It knew that the sorcerer was unwillingly forced to serve this realm, and so perhaps he would not cause a problem. Unfortunately, he also was the god of chaos, and so perhaps he could decide to protect this world on a whim. Fortunately, the specter had observed that he left this realm repeatedly and in consistent _predictable_ intervals.

_She _was the problem. It had yet to find out if she would be willing to fight and _more importantly _to kill. It had also not discovered any of her weakness or vulnerabilities. It hadn't watched her for enough time.

Its presence was already being pulled from this realm, yet it had not failed. It would deliver its report, as it had been ordered. Embellished and without mentioning its near discovery, the Other would reward it, as promised.

The sorcerer still searched, but now his efforts were in vain. The dark presence was positively gleeful.

* * *

§

* * *

Sydney was giving her new shoes the evil eye. She had hoped that they wouldn't fit, but they did. Of course they did. Maybe Tony would have a Halloween costumed party. She had always disliked the way everyone else in her acquaintance had celebrated that holiday, but an exception could be made. Yes, well... as long as the party wasn't actually held on Samhain, _what day was Halloween this year_? She picked up her iPad from her nightstand and found the calendar app. _Crap_, Friday night. Not a problem. Surely Tony would throw a party on Saturday, right? People would prefer getting all dressed up on a weekend day. She could dress as Dorothy, _not_ the wicked witch, _no _red and white striped socks for her. She could get a blue dress, find a stuffed dog to carry in a basket, get some ribbons and pull her hair into pigtails.

Her hair...

How easy it was earlier to forget about her hair. She looked over to the mirror above her dresser, almost wishing that somehow it had all been a dream. No, it wasn't. The nightmare that was her once beloved mane was still there, and she was looking more and more like a white haired troll doll each day. She looked sickly. With her pale skin, the crinkled white strands were so transparent that they appeared almost sparse. If her conversation with Loki had shown her anything at all, it was that the time had come to let it go.

"Bessie?"

Nothing. Her reflection was her own.

She wasn't going to cover it up as Loki suggested. Better to embrace this and go from there. _Never hide who you are, always stay true to yourself_. She left the bedroom and rummaged around under the sink in her fully stocked en suite. _There it is_. She knew had seen the hair clippers under there earlier, likely supplied for any man who might have been assigned to these rooms instead of her.

Discovering that the batteries needed to be charged, she plugged the cord in the power outlet. Sydney looked up to see her expression in the bathroom mirror. Her face looked familiar for the first time in weeks. She looked like a soldier; determined, tough, and ready. She nodded as if to further encourage herself and then turned to leave the bathroom. She shut the door firmly behind her.

Suddenly feeling worn, she went back into her bedroom to lie down. She pulled a pillow from under the comforter and curled around it in a fetal position, staring at the closed door. Sydney tried to stroke her hair, but the crackle from the contact with her hand caused stopped her. _This sucks_. She couldn't believe she was about to cry over this. Of all the horrible agonizing things that had happened to her recently, why on earth was she about to complete breakdown over something as ridiculously petty as _her hair_? It was a good thing she had decided to shave her head; otherwise, she could possibly wallow like a stuck pig until the end of time.

Just as she was starting to doze off, the door to her bathroom opened. _What the..._

Loki stepped out, holding the clippers, "Well, my lady, I see that you have decided to disregard my offer."

"What are you doing here, Loki? I guarantee you that S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't like your disappearing then reappearing act." She sat up, her eyes narrowing, "What offer?"

"Your hair," he gave her a bored look. "I did offer to help you restore it. Fear not, I've performed such a spell to a maid's hair before."

"Is _that_ what you meant earlier? You were actually, honestly offering to help?"

"Of course, what else would you think I was offering to help you with?" He set down the clippers on her dresser with distaste, as if dropping a dead rodent. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned leisurely against the door frame. "_Is there anything else you would want from me?_" He leaned forward, "_Something you sorely need, perhaps?_" He wasn't smiling with his lips, but his green eyes were shining.

Sydney fought the urge to swallow. He was good, too good, and she damn made sure to clear her mind of all thoughts. "_I don't know what you're talking about._"

Loki squinted as if examining her and shook his head, "_I suppose you don't._" He walked over and lifted her chin, and she gave him a wary look. Before she could swat his hand away, he took a few strands of her hair and rubbed them slowly between his fingers. His touch somehow sent shivers over her scalp, and Sydney repressed an instinctive need to shiver.

He was trying to intimidate her, and she didn't like it. Forgetting that they had just been speaking mentally, she asked out loud, "And what precisely am I supposed to know?"

Loki leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "That perhaps there is someone else you would rather encourage than the soldier out of time."

She stared at him, understanding, and let out a laugh. "You're imagining things." She tried to push him away, but he was as solid as a brick wall and completely unmovable.

He slowly released her hair from his gentle grip, watching the strands slip through his fingers. "Am I?"

"That is... Loki, that is never going to happen."

Loki scoffed, sneering at her. "_You forget, my lady. I have already had the exquisite pleasure of your kiss._" With that dark haired god once again disappeared, vanishing into thin air.

_What an egomaniac! You have got to be _kidding_ me_, thought Sydney. _I would remember kissing... o__h... wait..._ Heat flooded her cheeks as she recalled what happened when she awoke on the floor in the warehouse after her long sleep in the cryotube. Sydney kicked the wall, scuffing it. She grabbed the clippers and marched into the bathroom, suddenly filled with purpose.

After she stepped inside, she dropped the clippers on the tile floor. Her arm and the hand that had held them fell limply to her side. Sydney stood there with her mouth hanging open. She meant to squeal, but all that came out was a choked-like sounding puff of air. Her eyes bulged at what she saw in the mirror. Seconds passed and she didn't move.

Less than a moment later, her reflection shimmered as her familiar came into view.

"Sorry it took me so long to get here after you called," said Bessie. "It was unavoidable. I went to... _ahhhh_!" Sydney watched as her reflection pulled a lock of the luxuriously silky raven-colored tresses in front of her face. "Your hair! Your hair is black!"

"Really, Bessie? I hadn't noticed."

* * *

§

* * *

[23] **The after hangover routine of my roommate from way back in college (and FYI, this is so _not_ any form of medical advice): First, she drank 16 oz. of water with two ibuprofen. Second, her tomato juice concoction (8 oz. tomato juice, 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, 1/4 cup sugar) over which she squeezed a lime. _Yes, 1/4 cup of sugar and the 200 calories that this entails, deal with it._ She would drink that with either _plain_ toast or saltine crackers. Third, yoga. Finally, she constantly drank coffee the rest of the day. That last part and ibuprofen is about all I do. Drinking water would probably be better than coffee, but not everyone is perfect. Perhaps you are... in which case I would probably dislike you when I'm hungover.**


	15. He's a cold-hearted snake

**Author's Note**

**I spent some extra time before this update going back over old chapters to correct grammatical errors. It was something to do while I was stuck plot-wise, but I seriously had no idea how many errors there were. That's why it took so long. I'm quite embarrassed, but I'm glad I had writer's block because I wouldn't have known how bad it was otherwise. The first step is recognizing you have a problem, so now hopefully y'all can hold me to a higher standard in the future... just saying. I'm considering looking into getting a beta, but please be patient (this is my first story and I have absolutely no clue on how getting/having a beta actually works).**

**Dialogue in both "_italics and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, October 7, 2014  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter XIV **§  
he's a cold-hearted snake[24]

* * *

Drs. Bergström, Foster and Banner were in the kitchen later that morning discussing their latest findings in the lab and searching for more coffee. Their quest for decaf was a bust so far. Bruce stayed away all stimulants as a general rule, Jane was too polite to drink caffeine in front of someone who couldn't, and Sydney was too impatient to wait around for more than one pot to be brewed.

"How about some decaf tea?" asked Bruce.

"Sure," said Jane.

"No, thank you. Half the joy of coffee is the way it smells, and tea just doesn't do it for me. Wait, here we go. Bingo! Found some," said Sydney. She held the canister up triumphantly, but then did a double take after looking more closely at the label. "Huh... 'Naturally' decaffeinated. Seriously? How exactly do you chemically alter something _naturally_?"

Bruce laughed, "You can. They basically put the coffee beans in a cannon and shoot them at a wall. I'm not sure whether the caffeine molecules are completely broken down or simply knocked unconscious." Sydney raised an eyebrow at him and looked back at the coffee canister suspiciously. "I'm not making this up," Bruce insisted. "I can't. I'm not interesting enough to come up with something like that on my own."

"Not likely. You would be hard pressed to find _anyone_ staying in this tower who wasn't interesting," said Jane.

Sydney nodded and began fiddling with the coffee maker. "Jane, are you still drinking tea? I can make enough for all of us if you want coffee."

"Sure, I'd love some," said Darcy walking into the kitchen like a zombie risen from the grave. She collapsed on one of the bar stools with a grown and nested her head down in her arms.

"It's decaf."

"Eww, never mind," Darcy's voice was muffled.

"Are you okay?" asked Jane

"So, I finally drag my ass out of bed, fully expecting you to be feeling crappy as me and finding you hanging out in your pajamas away from sunlight with your makeup looking all scary, but no... You're already at work." Darcy raised her head slowly and held her face in her hands. "I'm cranky and I want to go back to bed. My hopes have been crushed."

Bruce laughed. Darcy opened her eyes to glare at him and then leaned forward blinking.

"Dude, Sydney? Were you so drunk last night that you dyed your hair? I totally thought you gave off a great science vibe with that Albert Einstein hairdo, but this style is _way _better." Darcy hopped off the stool, suddenly less like the walking dead. "You're like... smiling for realsies. How are you not hungover and in jammies? You're wearing lady clothes; you even showered, didn't you? Or maybe now your hair isn't _eau de_ _chemical factory_ with a hint of burnt synthetic carpet any more. You smell good."

"Darcy," Jane looked embarrassed at what her intern was saying to her fellow scientist. "Is there a point to all this, cause there really should be a point to all this."

"I want the day off, el Jefe."

"Granted." Jane waited until Darcy's back was turned and she was halfway down the hallway to mouth _I'm sorry_ to Sydney, who merely shook her head indulgently.

"I didn't notice your hair changed," Bruce commented. Jane and Sydney looked at each other and then at him. "It's... darker."

"This morning you noticed from across the lab when I wrote incorrect calculations on the board, but you didn't notice her hair?" asked Jane.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably, "It looks... nice?" He sounded like a child hesitantly guessing the answer to a question after a teacher noticed he wasn't paying attention in class.

Jane smiled and patted his shoulder, "I admire your ability to focus on the task at hand."

Bruce seemed relieved.

"Yeah. Perhaps your work ethic will rub off on us," said Sydney holding back a laugh. "Speaking of which... We've dilly-dallied enough; time to get back to the lab. We have work to do."

Back in the lab, they resumed running theoretical simulations on the effects on the human body traveling through an Einstein-Rosen Bridge. Traveling via Bifröst wasn't a problem for the Æsir, obviously; however, Thor had said that to the best of his knowledge no one from Midgard had ever visited Asgard... So Jane being Jane, she was merely exercising caution. Bruce realized the scientist in Jane would be distracted from her nervousness of traveling to Asgard in less than a month from now if she tried to think about the trip clinically.

It was the reason Bruce had suggested to Jane and Sydney that they do so.

* * *

Sydney couldn't stay in Bruce's lab for long periods of time. It may have all the toys, but its design was based on a prototype of a containment cell built on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s helicarrier. The room was meant to lock down and hold Bruce in case he turned into the Jolly Green Giant with anger management issues, ergo Sydney felt unusually claustrophobic while the doors were closed... like at any moment she would become stuck in there.

She stood in the hallway outside the lab, not sure exactly where she was heading. All Sydney knew was that she needed yet another break. In the end, she decided to seek out Loki as she hadn't yet thanked him.

She was also curious as to why he turned her hair _black_.

Not that she didn't absolutely love it, because she did. After the initial shock had passed, she almost instantly decided that having dark hair suited her.

He wasn't in his room, and Sydney didn't think that he was merely not answering the door. Sydney decided to find Thor and ask him. She had just reached the sparring room, when she heard voices.

"Thor, enough. More of your conversation would infect my brain."

"Do not think me a fool, brother. I recognize your insults."

"I am _not _your brother."

Recognizing the private family spat for what it was, Sydney stopped before she reached the door. It was obviously not the time to intrude. She had just turned back around, when she heard Loki's voice again.

"Lady Sydney, I know you heard us. There is no reason to slither away like a thief."

_Crap._

She turned around again, and walked up to the doorway. Realizing that Darcy, Natasha and Clint were already in the room, she didn't feel as intrusive. Natasha and Clint were in the ring and circling each other while throwing kicks and punches. They seemed oblivious to the arguing and to Sydney's arrival. Darcy was on a nearby bench; however, instead of facing the match in the ring, she was obviously watching the verbal match between Thor and Loki.

"Hello," she smiled. _Nope_, she thought, _not awkward at all._

Thor took one look at Sydney and then tightened his jaw and gave his brother a stony glare. "I had hoped it wasn't true. Lady Sif would be most displeased to see you performing the same prank," he hissed.

"Prank?" asked Sydney. They both ignored her. Darcy motioned for Sydney to come join her, but Sydney shook her head no.

"I apologized over _five centuries _ago," said Loki. "Repeatedly, I might add. And for your information, it wasn't meant to be a permanent change. I miscalculated."

Thor drew his shoulders up, "Lady Sif would disagree."

"Odin's beard, I said I apologized," snarled Loki.

"Then why have you _miscalculated_ yet again?" Thor yelled. "And cease taking our father's name in vain."

"He is not my father!" shouted Loki.

Sydney slammed the door shut behind her. The two Æsir's heads simultaneously jerked at the sound, somehow seemingly startled that their private argument was being observed. Natasha and Clint only gave Sydney the briefest of glances, and then continued with their bout.

"Perhaps you aren't brothers, but you sure do argue like family. I swear, you two are worse than my stepsisters and I ever were" Sydney huffed. "I'll keep this quick, then you can go back to not-squabbling like not-brothers." She faced Loki and gave him a kind yet forced smile, "I came by to thank you properly."

"You're pleased," Loki indicated with one hand, "with your hair?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Loki smirked at Sydney. As she turned to leave, he said, "Of course, you had hoped to find me alone and thank me _properly_."

_Oh goddess, he did not just say that. _Sydney pivoted mid-step, and gave Loki an exasperated look, "I don't know why you twist my words, trickster."

Thor began laughing, which incensed Loki. "Laugh it up, you hairy oaf. But you didn't see us alone in her room earlier."

Thor raised an eyebrow and leaned back, looking at Sydney speculatively. Darcy got up to join them.

"She expressed her true feelings for me," Loki gave Thor a smug look.

Sydney blushed so violently you could have fried an egg on her cheeks. She stared Loki down, refusing to give in to her embarrassment. "My... Why, you... you stuck up... lying... cold-hearted snake!"

"What does 'stuck up' mean?" asked Loki, laughing. He turned to Thor and Darcy, "My silver tongue must have been quite accurate to cause a reaction such as this, don't you believe?"

Sydney stared at him, jaw hanging open. "I cannot believe that I thought you would appreciate my gratitude." When his smile only grew wider, she lowered her voice and said forcefully, "You don't know a thing about me." With that, she walked over and grabbed Darcy's face somewhat gently, kissing her on the lips. Then Sydney gave Loki a piercing look. She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving everyone in the room, including Natasha and Clint who were obviously paying more attention than previously thought, slightly dumbstruck.

After blinking a couple of times, Darcy raised a fist triumphantly and grinned, "I'm so sexy smexy that even the lesbians love me. I rule!" Clint snickered until getting a look from Natasha, but even then he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

Thor looked from the door through which Sydney exited to Loki and Darcy. Obviously confused, he murmured, "Lady Sydney is a Sappic maiden?"

* * *

§

* * *

"You're an ass," said Sydney before Loki even materialized.

"I'm the god of lies," Loki said. He walked over to her window of her bedroom and stood there, unmoving. His posture was upright yet unconstrained, and his hands were clasped loosely behind his back. It took a moment for Sydney to realize that he was watching her in the reflection of the glass. He had a slight smile on his face, like a wolf might observe its prey.

Sydney rolled her eyes, "I don't see the difference. Give yourself any 'godly' title you want. You are still an immature ass."

"I'm older than you could possibly imagine."

"So. Am. I." She glared at him. "You and Thor are not Gods! You're born, you live, and you die, just as humans do."

"Give or take five thousand years," he sneered. Loki turned around to face Sydney, exhaling. "I am 1073 years old,"[25] he huffed.

Sydney tilted her head, strumming her fingers against her thigh. Finally, she stopped and narrowed her eyes, "I see. Well then, you're barely more than a child."

Something Sydney said earlier caught Loki's attention, and he ignored the immediate jab. "And how many years do you have under your belt, nursling?" he asked.

Her confidence drained away with that question. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "Something happened to me. I can't describe it. I'm still trying to come to terms with..." Sydney's lip quivered and she rubbed her temples.

Loki's face softened, ever so slightly. He sat down next to Sydney. He was close, but he wasn't touching her. "Time was different for you while you were sleeping than it is here?"

"Yes."

"I understand. I truly do."

"How?"

Loki stood up and started pacing. "_I will not show you all of my memories of the Other, but I must share some of them with you._" He walked back to Sydney and held out his hand, "Do I have your permission?"

"Okay." Sydney took his hand and a barrage of images past through her mind. She gasped and tried to pull away, but Loki pulled her upright and closer to him.

"_Stay with me, please. I need to show you this._"

"_This is... oh goddess... this is horrible._" The memories continued to flow into her mind. She swayed in Loki's arms. To anyone watching, it would seem like they were dancing slowly.

"_I know, and I'm sorry._" Sydney's knees buckled, but Loki held her up. When the onslaught of images slowly ceased, he looked down to see her crying... for him. He then told her the rest before he could be moved to not cause her further distress, "_He would slice my skin to ribbons and tear the flesh from my bones until there was nothing left. Then suddenly, he would heal me. I would be whole again, and the pain would have dissolved... just in time for him to start all over. Each time, the Other would whisper in my ear how much he needed me on his side. How much he wanted my fealty. He would promise the end to my suffering, an army of Chitauri warriors and a realm to rule if I would simply swear my allegiance to him. You know the rest; I gave in to him, obviously._"

_"Loki, you were his prisoner for months. You held out longer than anyone else could possibly have._"

Loki laughed bitterly, "_No, time works differently in Chitauri space. In the Nine Realms, less than a year had passed, but there..._" He paused, closing his eyes and reliving painful memories for a second time, "_While I was there, two centuries past. I was tortured decade after decade, and every time I saw him I spat in his face and cursed him. Finally, I gave in to him. I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't. Then he gave me that scepter and an army. My heart was full of hate, and I was filled with the need for vengeance against my brother. I had forgotten the love of my mother and brother for me. The things I did to conquer the throne of Asgard._"

"_I don't understand. I thought you came to conquer Earth._"

"_I put Midgard in peril to distract Thor. The Chitauri army would have been too much for the people of your world. You would have been conquered, and Asgard would have come to your aid, weakening their defenses. Then one man died, and your heroes banded together. I was taken home in disgrace. It was over. I was ready... I was prepared to die. If I were not executed by Odin, then Thanos or the Other would have ended my life in punishment for my failure._"

"_What changed? Why did you decide to live and seek amends?_"

"_I saw my mother cry, and suddenly I realized how far I had fallen into insanity._"

They stood swaying slowly for several minutes. Loki lifted up her chin to look at him, "So you see, I understand how time was different. For both of us, time passed..."

"_Yet we didn't age a day_," she finished. Loki nodded. "I was in that... that _box_ for eighteen years, but the more I remember... the more I make sense of what happened..." She sniffed, "_Loki, I think that I was there for centuries._"

"_At the very least... well, that is my guess._"

"_I'm glad you understand It's nice to feel less... lonely._" Sydney squeezed Loki in a hug. He stiffened against her, but he didn't push her away. She smiled up at him, "I'm sorry I called you an ass, even if you were one."

Loki laughed, this time the good humor reached his eyes. "You had every right, my lady. Come, I need to talk to you about what I saw... well, what I _felt_, on the balcony earlier."

* * *

§

* * *

[24] **Egads! Has anyone ever paid attention to the lyrics of Paula Abdul's _Cold Hearted_? I think she was singing about Loki, hence the name of this chapter. You may have noticed, but I also forced a few lyrics into the dialogue of this chapter. Don't judge me; it was absolutely necessary for me to pay homage to Paula's 1989 brilliance... for Loki's sake.**

[25] **Okay, I posted another 'story' called _Loki: Lover of Fidelity, Appendixes_. Basically, I wanted to share something regarding Asgardian aging that was too long for a footnote. Please read, because I solemnly swear that this appendix is magnificent. You can find the link on my profile page.**


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